Always Like This
by HMai
Summary: '"I'll see you soon!" He yelled after her, knowing his words resounded true. She shot him the finger. Wes was still grinning even as she disappeared around the corner.' A certain Dalton boy comes crashing into Santana's life and refuses to leave.
1. Valentines

**Disclaimer: Glee is all Ryan Murphy's. A girl can dream though...  
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"Hey! Hey, you, wait!" Wes stuck his head out of the glass doors to watch the back of the striking brunette walking alone away from the brightly lit restaurant. He'd seen her slip quietly away from her lone table shortly after their performance. She'd stopped only briefly to talk to a tall, pretty blonde girl with a strange, vacant expression. Wes had excused himself from a heated conversation with Thad and David in order to pursue her. It wasn't really rational. But Wes had never been one for the rational.

Santana stopped in her tracks and turned to face the boy jogging up to her. She studied him carefully, from his tailored pants and navy and red blazer to the goofy grin stretched across his face. _Cute..._

He reached her, panting slightly, before stopping a few feet before her. She stared back at him blankly for a second and he rolled back on his heels, smile broadening.

"Hi." His upbeat tone unnerved her. She waited expectantly but he stood, silent, smiling at her.

_Okay then._ She recognised him as the Warbler who'd danced with her during their performance. Her head tilted unconsciously to the side as she looked him up and down, eyes finally settling on his face. His expression remained frozen in his smile that reached his eyes. Santana pulled her hands out of the pockets of her black puffy jacket and stepped towards him. Sure, he may not have been exactly her type, but it was Valentine 's Day and no matter how much she lied to herself about it she was acutely aware of her own loneliness, especially today. So she did what she always did whenever she felt lonely.

Wes watched as the confusion in Santana's eyes disappeared and filled with another, hungrier emotion. He didn't flinch when she took a deliberate step towards him. Her dark eyes flashed seductively up at him from beneath the thick fringe of lashes, full lips curved up in a flirtatious smirk. Wes raised his eyebrows as she reached out towards him and curled her fingers around his tie. Tugging roughly, she pulled him towards her. He hadn't known what he'd been expecting from her but it hadn't been this.

"Hi yourself..." she whispered, low and sultry. Wes was surprised and impressed by how quickly she assumed this character. The seductive smile playing on her glossy lips and the hunger in her eyes were a world apart from the open, laughing face he'd seen as he danced beside her in the restaurant only ten minutes ago. _Interesting... _

Santana noted how, although his smile wasn't as wide now, his eyes still danced in amusement. It left her confused and annoyed, usually by this point guys were putty in her perfectly manicured hands, she was good at this. Why was he still laughing?

_I'll give him something to laugh about..._ Challenge accepted she tightened her grip on the boy's tie, Santana was not a girl to be deterred.

She pulled the fabric down and lifted her head, bringing his face closer to hers, all the while never breaking eye-contact. From somewhere deep within her chest she felt a flutter of something foreign. She parted her lips and closed her eyes when the other boy's lips were a breath from hers. A bitter wind blew towards her and she caught the faint scent of cologne, it must have been something expensive because it smelled divine, the scent flooded her senses and made her dizzy. Her breath hitched a little in anticipation.

With great difficulty and what he'd like to think was an act of super-human self-restraint Wes tore his gaze away from Santana's glossy, plump lips, the very same ones that were inching closer and closer to his own with tantalizing precision. Through the haze he found his hand and moved it to cover the small yet strong hand clutching his tie in a tenacious grip. He touched her soft hand lightly, coaxing her fingers away from his tie and threading them through his, her grip loosened. As it did he leaned away from her slightly, maintaining a distance that allowed him to maintain his cool. He could faintly smell the fruity scent of her shampoo, it smelled delicious.

Santana's eyes snapped open in surprise.

"How would you like to go out sometime?" The tone Wes used was unfamiliar to her, used to a much more _suggestive_ tone when anyone asked her out. Guys never spoke to her that warmly, no one ever spoke to her that warmly. A heated rush of embarrassment washed through her. She'd been rejected. Again. On frigging _Valentine's day_. The initial wave of crippling mortification ebbed away, leaving a cold rush of fury surging through her veins. Fury not only aimed at this _annoying_ boy standing before her but anger at everyone, including herself. Wes was still holding her small hand in his and he was smiling serenely down at her like nothing had even happened, it fuelled her anger. She snatched her hand away from his grasp, ignoring the part of her that wanted to maintain the warmth that the large calloused hand provided. The boy, unperturbed, continued smiling at her.

_Is he _insane?

"Screw you!" her lip curled contemptuously as the venomous snarl escaped her. She glared, affronted, at the _clearly _unhinged individual standing before her. Wes felt oddly at ease, even as he watched her back stalking away from him.

"I'll see you soon!" He yelled after her, knowing his words resounded true. She shot him the finger. Wes was still grinning as she disappeared around the corner.

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"Dude, where the hell have you _been_?" David made his way through a group of Warblers to where Wes had just come back in from the cold. He rubbed his hands together his numb fingers tingling.

"Nowhere..." Wes answered with wide, mock innocent eyes. David raised an eyebrow staring pointedly at his crooked tie and rolled his eyes.

"What happened to Annabelle?" Wes winced at the memory but smiled despite himself.

"Now my ex-girlfriend." David looked sceptical at his sunny tone, regarding him carefully.

"By your own hand, or hers?"

"It was pretty much...mutual." Wes grinned ruefully, rubbing the back of his neck.

"And you're already hitting on other girls?" Wes opened his mouth to protest but David gave him a dismissive hand gesture, "I saw you dancing with that girl, the one sitting alone..." Wes just shook his head, smiling. "Don't even try to lie to me Wesley, I know you better than you know yourself."

"It's not like that-" Wes began in protest before David cut across him.

"Wes, only a girl could make you bail an argument with Thad over song selections. He sees that as a sign of weakness by the way." Blaine appeared from the crowd and laughed at this.

"A sign of weakness?" Wes asked innocently.

"Don't act like you haven't seen the way Thad's been eyeing up that gavel Wes. All year. That one day you got sick and missed practice? He made Aiden _cry_." The memory made both Blaine and David recoil.

"Awful... it took three warblers to get the damn gavel back at the end of rehearsal." David's eyes glazed over, lost in the memory. Blaine nodded gravely.

Wes burst out laughing and the withering look his best friend shot him only added to the hilarity. Blaine laughed a little with him.

"Why did we ever elect him as the council leader?" Asked David in exasperation and despite his serious nature couldn't help but crack a smile.

Out of the corner of his eye Wes saw that Kurt had become momentarily detached from his Mckinley friends, eyes roaming across the small restaurant.

_Probably looking for Blaine_. Like many of the Warblers Wes wished that those two would just get together already. But now was not the time for matchmaking, he may not get another opportunity to talk to Kurt again until tomorrow if he got to Blaine before him. Without another word he clapped a hand on David's shoulder and made a beeline towards the new counter tenor.

"Hey, Kurt!" Kurt looked up in surprise at Wes and the wide, enthusiastic grin plastered across his face. He regarded the maniacal glint in the older boy's eye with apprehension, having seen it a few times in the past. Usually right before he did something particularly unhinged. In the few short weeks Kurt had known Blaine's friend Wes he'd managed to come to two solid conclusions:

One. Inside the Warblers hall and as head of the Warbler's council Wes was the picture of an excellent student and council leader, even if the power of his beloved gavel did occasionally go to his head. He was sensible and always strived to maintain the tradition and respect that the Warblers stood for. Also, Kurt had been there for Thad's momentary rise to power in the Warblers Hall a few weeks back. It was an even that verged on Rachel Berry crazy and one he was not eager to relive.

Two. Outside of the Warblers hall Wes was completely and utterly, unashamedly insane.

Kurt arched an eyebrow at him in question.

Wes' next words solidly perpetuated the latter clause forever in Kurt's mind.

"Have you got that Santana's cell phone number?"

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When Santana arrived home, alone, it was silent and dark. Without bothering to turn on the lights she threw down her keys in the green glass bowl on the little wooden side-table in the hall. It was cold in the house so she didn't bother to take off her jacket.

She walked through the empty house, her boots clacking against the wooden floorboards, allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Her father had bought the house a few years ago, shortly after the divorce, for her and her mother. It was a large house for two people, a four bedroom townhouse. It seemed even bigger when Santana was alone, which was often as her mother hardly ever spent any time there.

Surely enough as she got to the kitchen and finally flicked on a light there it was on the sleek marble topped breakfast counter.

_Greg planned a surprise Valentines trip to Paris! My credit cards' in the cookie jar. I'll be back in a week, be good. Mom x _

Santana read over the letter once before crumpling it up in her fist and throwing it in the trashcan. She walked over to the counter, opened the lid to the cookie jar and pulled out the cold, golden plastic rectangle. She stared at it for a second before dropping it back in the jar.

She walked over to the opposite wall and opened one of the over-head cabinets. From there she retrieved a large, glass bottle filled with a clear liquid.

From another cupboard underneath the counter she grabbed a large glass. She placed it on the counter and unscrewed the bottle's red cap. The bottle and glass connected and made a satisfying clinking noise that echoed loudly in the silence. Liquid sloshed out of the bottle, filling the glass almost to the brim. Once she was satisfied she screwed back the cap and returned the considerably lighter bottle to its cabinet. She switched off the light and walked through the darkness, up the stairs and to her room.

An hour later she lay heavily on her bed in a drunken stupor. Alone and blissfully numb. She could remember the first time she'd done this, it was the first time her mom had bailed on her for another man following her divorce. She'd been twelve and at the time her mom had been visiting a faceless suitor's family in Kentucky. Her mom had only been gone for a weekend but she'd left Santana alone. The memory echoed sadly in her chest and she quickly forced herself to forget with another sip. Somewhere in the back of her mind she saw the guy from earlier, a dazzling white smile beneath kind eyes. Her stomach clenched but before she could even process that reaction she was pulled into unconsciousness.

The digital clock on her bedside table blinked _11:18_. She hadn't heard her cell-phone buzzing angrily in her abandoned purse. It wasn't until the next morning when she was reaping the painful rewards of the previous night's binge that she stumbled to the hall and picked up her cell. She squinted against the bright screen.

"_**I wasn't kidding, I'll see you soon. Wes x"**_

Surprised she just stared at the message, her mouth pulled into a thin line. Who the hell was Wes? She could vaguely remember Mercedes saying something about a Wes... a friend of Kurt's prep school bromance. Then another fragment of memory replayed in her aching head, the irritating guy from last night calling out to her as she stormed away.

_"I'll see you soon!"_

_How the hell did he even get my number?_

She opened up the menu, finger hovering over the 'delete' option but somehow she managed to hit 'save' instead. This she blamed on the alcohol that was very much still heavily in her system. When she felt the strange surge of fluttering in her stomach in protest to that reasoning she put it down to the alcohol too.

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_A/N_ Hey! So this is my first fanfic in... about 3 years? If more? It seems like a really long time! I don't know why but I really love the idea of Wes and Santana. This started forming the second I saw them at the end of the Silly Love Songs ep! I hope you liked it, I have more typed up! Any reviews would be amazing!


	2. Ruffling feathers

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Ryan Murphy.

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Santana was thrilled. She always felt particularly pleased when succeeding in bringing down Quinn a few notches, usually as a result of a few more in her bed post. After all, even if she wasn't at the bottom of that _god-damned _pyramid anymore her post-cheerio's social suicide had left her solidly at the bottom of the social pyramid. Dating Sam would let everyone know that even if she wasn't a cheerio, she was on top and no one could take that away from her.

It was hard to pin-point exactly when she began to resent Quinn. Santana was an only child and so was Quinn, she and her both had the compulsive _need_ to be heard above everyone else; to be seen. For a little while, when they were younger, their similarities had drawn them together. It hadn't lasted long. Gradually Santana came to learn that the spotlight didn't shine as brightly on two people, the spotlight gravitated naturally towards the blonde. She learnt that in the sixth grade when her crush, Gary Thompson, ended up liking Quinn instead. It instilled in her a deep-rooted resentment that stemmed from a deep insecurity that she disguised with sexual prowess, biting sarcasm and recently enlarged breasts. It wasn't a coincidence that Santana had slept with every person Quinn had ever dated. In fact, she slept with Gary a few years ago at a party. Quinn didn't know, she'd probably forgotten by now but Santana had remembered.

That wasn't to say that she hated Quinn. There was part of her that would sometimes remember the time spent in her house, braiding her hair, watching silly princess movies and spending every waking moment with her. She'd feel sad for a little while, but then she'd remember every single time that she'd been overlooked in light of Quinn and the green-eyed monster was the only voice left raging in her ears.

The only mystery left for Santana was what exactly it was Quinn saw in Sam. Sure he was hot, that couldn't be disputed, especially after Rocky Horror, but once he opened his strangely attractive flounder lips she was lost. Although it was something that irked her somewhat she didn't pay it much thought as she intended to engage his lips in something _much_ better than conversation.

Needless to say it had been a good day, and as Santana stepped out of the doors of McKinley and into the crisp spring air she couldn't stop the smug smile forming on her lips. She encouraged it, basking in her victory.

Everything was going perfectly and exactly how she had planned. She really couldn't have hoped for a better outcome. Her pace was quick as she walked towards the school's parking lot, eager to leave the school's campus. The only thorn in her side was that her mother had left with the car, leaving Santana to either take the bus or walk. She considered both options, glancing up to gaze at the clear blue sky and breathing in the cool breeze so that it filled her lungs with the pure air. She decided that she'd never been a fan of public transport anyway and walked away from the garish yellow buses and walked towards the gates leading to downtown Lima.

At first she didn't notice the tall, short-haired boy in uniform standing against the fence surrounding McKinley; she was too busy scrambling through her bag, looking for her iPod. It wasn't until she felt herself covered in a sudden shadow that she looked up. Her initial reaction was confusion, shortly followed by a jumbled rush of irritation, anger and disgust. Another deep, hidden part of her seemed rather pleased that the promise within the text, still burning a hole in her saved messages folder, hadn't been a lie. But this was Santana, so the happy twinge inside her was very swiftly quashed by her trusty inner-cynic. Untroubled by the barely disguised disgust evident in Santana's face Wes smiled widely, flashing a row of perfect white teeth.

"Hi!" He exclaimed jubilantly, fixing her with his warm brown eyes. Santana shuffled uncomfortably under his stare for a second, before regaining her composure, she straightened up and assumed one of her withering bitch stares. She'd always been proud of these. There had once been a rumour that Santana had reduced a boy to tears with a single look, the rumour wasn't entirely true, she'd also made fun of his penis in front of most of the cheerio's squad, but the rumour was much more fun.

Wes held her angry eyes without flinching, even when she adjusted her weight and placed both hands on her hips. He smiled serenely as her lip curled. Eventually she realised that it was going to take more than a few glares. Secretly she was impressed by his resolute strength. She wondered how long it would take to break him. Clearly, after their last encounter, sex was out. That left nothing but scathing hostility.

"Get out of my way prep boy." She growled. To her surprise he stepped to the side without another word. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him and continued cautiously down the street, stepping with care as though she were looking out for any booby traps he might have set her. A pang of disappointment resounded in her chest. It was really going to be that simple?

Of course she should have known he wouldn't give up that easily. He fell into step beside her, matching pace as she sped up or slowed down in her effort to lose him. They walked side by side in silence; although Santana was grinding her teeth together so hard she wondered if he could hear. She hoped he could hear, because he was grating on her just as much. The biting, sarcastic voice in her head was just as silent and this unnerved her. It was one of the first times in her entire life that she was left completely and utterly defenceless, because this boy didn't seem to react to her at all and she couldn't understand how that was possible. He just walked, mute, a serene smile on his face. A violent urge to smack the smile right off his face washed through her. Her fingers twitched.

Eventually Santana stopped and rounded on him, eyes blazing.

"Would you _drop_ the creepy stalker act?"

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about. I just happen to be going the same way! Plus, aren't stalkers meant to like, you know, stalk? Hidden. Whereas, I appear to be standing next to you." He smiled triumphantly at this. Santana glared at him.

"Where exactly are you going that you'd have to take this particular path?" They were standing in the middle of a residential street, Santana smiled smugly at the spark of uncertainty in his face and the way he hesitated. "That's what I thought." She concluded. He reached out a hand and scratched his head, grinning but clearly at a loss. He looked like an overgrown child that had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Touché." For a second Santana felt the babble of laughter making its way to her lips, then she remembered herself and she pressed her lips tightly together. Wes noticed how the shining in her eyes dulled and her face tightened. Before he could register what that meant she'd already began walking away with more speed than he'd ever seen any girl achieve before. Ordinarily people struggled to keep up with her pace, in every sense of the word, but Santana was shorter than Wes and although her legs were certainly admirable, they were no match for Wes' wide stride. He was able to fall into step with her again with ease. He could see how much this irritated her, it was written all over her face. She shot him a look and the amusement dancing in his eyes made her furious. He was enjoying this way too much. She stopped and so did he. She began to walk and he followed. Eventually she wasn't able to contain herself any longer.

"Why can't you leave me _alone_?"

Wes halted for a second, as she had. He cocked his head to the right and considered her question. He smiled slightly at her, she shuffled her feet, she didn't like the way his eyes were boring down into hers and couldn't understand how he could just suddenly become so serious just like that. His swinging moods always left her one step behind, struggling to keep up. For a second her breath caught slightly as she waited for his answer, leaving herself open for once. Then Wes opened his mouth and shattered the moment.

"What would you say if I told you that you seem lonely?" The other girl prickled angrily, her nostrils flared indignantly and her mouth curved down into a contemptuous sneer.

"I don't _need_ your charity rich boy. I have guys a-plenty, a boyfriend even." She couldn't read the blank expression on Wes' face, but she hoped that the disappearance of his grin meant her words were hitting the right mark. She took a step forward, blocking his path, turning up her face so that his was just inches from hers.

"You get that preppy? L_eave me alone_!" She was breathing heavily; she couldn't remember the last time anyone had gotten under her skin like this before. Hell, no one _had ever_ gotten under her skin like this before. Wes was still staring her down with his vacant eyes, as she felt herself calm down she became acutely aware of the tension that crackled in the air between them. She felt herself falter a little, her eyes flickering over his face nervously.

_Why isn't he saying anything? Why hasn't he left yet?_

Wes rolled his eyes at her. That was _not_ the reaction she was going for.

"You are not a charity case." Santana was scandalized, this was the first time anyone other than Brit had ever had that mild a reaction to her biting words. Suddenly she wanted to run, to put as much space between her and the confusing boy before her as was physically possible, but she remained frozen to the spot.

Wes saw the shock in her face. Admittedly he probably found it a lot more amusing than he should. He couldn't help it, he loved ruffling her feathers, he grinned and winked at her; the same stupid, sloppy grin that Santana wanted to knock right off his silly face. She felt her hands clench into fists, but she also felt something else, the warm pooling of blood in her cheeks. _Oh _hell_ no. _

"Whatever." She replied shortly, resuming her swift pace. She refused to look up at him again, instead she looked straight ahead, adjusting her posture so she walked with her head held high. Wes grabbed Santana's hand. Her eyes bugged out of her skull and she glowered up at him.

"What the hell do you think-"

"I want to be your friend Santana." He cut across her, eyes uncharacteristically serious. That threw her. Conscious effort was made to ignore the irritating clenching feeling in her stomach.

"I don't need another boyfriend." His lips quirked up at that, "And if you _want_ to keep your hand _let me go_." Wes released her hand at that last angry snarl. He started to laugh heartily. Santana gritted her teeth again, aware that by the end of this confrontation she would have probably ground down her flawless teeth to dust.

To her horror the boy put a surprisingly strong arm over her shoulders and pulled her into him roughly and then proceeded to ruffle her hair. She squirmed and kicked at him yelling out.

"Stop it! I said _stop it_ you moron!Idiot, asshole, bastard! _Wes_!" Wes let her go as she finally screeched out his name, spitting it out so it sounded even more offensive than the string of swear words. She saw his expression twist into a strange little smile for a second, but then he caught sight of the damage he'd inflicted on her hair. He considered it blankly for a few seconds and glanced down Santana's murderous expression, then back up to her hair. Wes burst out in a fit of hysterical laughter.

"Your...your _hair_!" he managed to wheeze out between peals of laughter. Santana regarded him without rushing to fix her hair, she stopped in her tracks and got her phone out of her pocket with a blank expression, she flicked up the screen, clicked a few buttons and then jabbed the "Call" button angrily. Wes was still doubling over in laughter as a voice sounded at the other end of the phone.

"Santana? What do you want? Don't you have relationships to sabotage? Spawns of Satan to rear?" Kurt's voice was catty and sarcastic as ever. Santana couldn't help but smile, Kurt always had been able to hold his own.

"Chill out Hummel. This isn't about anyone from McKinley."

"Then why are you calling me?" Kurt asked suspiciously.

"I need you to come and stop your _crazy_ Dalton friend from _stalking my ass_." She yelled down the phone. Wes had stopped laughing for long enough to register what was going on. He looked extremely pleased with himself. She frowned at him.

"I don't know what _you're _smiling-"

"Santana what the hell-" Kurt began, Wes bounced over moving his face closer to the phone.

"Hey Kurt!" Wes sang into the receiver, Santana swatted him away with her free hand. He stepped back, crossed his arms and sighed dramatically.

"Oh. Okay." Santana rolled her eyes at the sudden comprehension in Kurt's voice. "I'm handing the phone to David, he's the only one that speaks Wes' particular dialect of lunacy. Hand yours over to Wes if you value your sanity." Santana glanced up suspiciously at Wes before turning her attention back to the phone.

"You want me to give this lunatic my _cell phone_?"

"Just shut up and do it Santana." Reluctantly she handed the phone to Wes who greeted Kurt in a sunny tone.

"Hi Kurt, what's up?" Santana watched as Wes' expression changed, she heard a muffled voice at the other end of the phone and Wes' grin faltered.

"But _David_ I -" the whine was cut short. More muffled conversation from the other end, Wes sighed severely. "Fine. I said _fine _David. Yeah, I'll be back soon. I promise geez! Goodbye." Wes rolled his eyes again and ended the call. He handed the phone back over to Santana with a smirk, when she reached to take it from him he pulled it back out of her reach.

_Oh he is so not messing with me like this._

She saw red and lunged forward, when she was within Wes' reach he encircled her in a tight hold, pinning her arms to her side and pulling her body against his in a vice like grip. She squirmed and protested but her efforts did nothing to deter the unexpectedly strong teen. Between her cries of outrage Santana tried not to dwell on the heat she felt radiating from Wes' body or the way his surprisingly muscular arms flexed around her. Considering how many boys' Santana had felt against her in much more _intimate_ settings this contact shouldn't have bothered her as much as it did.

"David?" He mused aloud, his chin resting on the mass of dishevelled hair. Santana finally managed to disengage her arms and pushed against his chest, he released his grip. Unperturbed he continued. "Kurt really doesn't play fair..." He pouted for a second; Santana was looking at him in wide-eyed astonishment. She thought the people at McKinley were unhinged, but the boy standing before her with his bottom lip jutting out like a sulking five year old was something else _entirely_.

"You are completely insane, you know that right?" Wes looked at her with wide eyes, bringing one hand to his chest, the other covering his mouth in shock.

"You flatter me." He gushed with a grin. She shook her head at him, defeated.

"Completely insane." She repeated. Wes laughed and relaxed his dramatic pose.

"I'm leaving, but rest assured, I will be calling you." Santana stared at him, dumbfounded. Before she could begin to argue with him he waved and began walking away. She watched his back, rooted to the spot, as he did. He stopped abruptly and turned around again just before he rounded the corner. She cursed herself inwardly for not escaping when she had the chance.

"Oh, Santana?" he called mischievously. She arched a perfectly shaped brown in reply.

"I said I wanted to be your _friend_," he emphasised the last word, smiling brightly "not your boyfriend!" He gave another enthusiastic wave before making his way to the street corner and disappeared from her sight.

"What the hell..." Santana muttered to herself. She was frozen in the same spot until she noticed the odd looks people passing on the street were shooting her. With a growing dread she raised her hands to her rumpled hair. As she smoothed out the tangled mess she cursed Wes to hell. Telling herself that next time he came over... then she remembered suddenly that he was a guy and there probably wouldn't be a next time, because they never did keep their promises. On cue there was that slight pain inside her chest again. As she made her way down the street, still tugging at her hair she tried to tell herself that the pain in her chest and the colossal pain in her ass that was Wes weren't connected. Not connected at all.

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**A/N Hey! Thank you all so much for the reviews and alert adds, they brighten my entire week I swear! I hope you like it, any reviews are amazing and greatly appreciated :)  
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	3. Movies

**A/N – I'm so sorry this took so long! School has been insane, deadlines EVERYWHERE but I did stay up till about twelve last night and ignored a history essay due in tomorrow to write this so hopefully it's worth it and you guys like it! Thank you so much for anyone who reviewed. Any more you'd be kind enough to send my way would be totally amazing!**

**Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy owns it all. **

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"Why can't you act like a normal, sane human being?" David asked his best friend in exasperation. He shook his head in disgust but Wes knew he was fighting the urge to laugh.

"You've been my best friend for what- seven years- and you still need to ask that question?" David rolled his eyes at him but laughed despite himself. Wes grinned as his best friend and stepped away from the doorway so that he could enter. Wes walked over to his bed and let himself fall onto it. Past girls had never been this exhausting...

"Who is she anyway? Kurt seemed..." Wes raised his head from his arms when David trailed off, he looked confused. Wes raised his eyebrows at him signalling him to continue.

"He may have made a comment about you selling your soul to an incubus." Finished David flatly. Wes laughed and returned his head to the pillow. David studied his friend with worry.

"Sounds like Kurt..." he muffled into the bed.

David didn't respond immediately. He crossed the room and sat down in his desk chair stretching his long legs to rest on the bed.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" David asked cautiously. Wes snorted from the other end of the room.

"Of course not! That's the best part." David face palmed at his friend's cheery exclamation.

"You're impossible." He groaned. "Why can't you just be official Wes all the time?" Wes sat up and frowned at him.

"That would just be no fun... plus I think the guys would die of fatigue if I worked them that hard outside the Warblers hall. Although – You know I could really use a new gavel David..." David threw a pillow at Wes' head, aim impeccable as always. Years of practice meant that, if Wes was the subject, David never missed his target.

"Not a chance Wesley. Seriously, sometimes I think that if it was a choice between me and that _damn_ gavel..." Wes stared at him with wide, meaningful eyes. David groped for something else to throw at him, finding nothing he threw up his hands in surrender got up and headed towards the door.

"Whatever," he laughed "I'm meeting Sophie." David stopped half way through the door and turned to Wes with a rare smug grin. Wes noted this warily and prepared himself for the blow.

"Going on a date with girl who actually likes you... Seriously dude, you should try it sometime!" With one last mocking grin he disappeared through the door.

Wes threw the pillow back at him, hitting the door as it closed behind David, before pulling out his laptop from his bedside table. He opened it up and studied his facebook screen. In the search bar he typed in 'Santana Lopez' and hit enter.

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The sun streamed steadily in though the floor length windows at the back of the room. It was a Sunday. Santana wasn't religious, but to her the opportunity to sleep all day was sacred. Sundays were the days she sat around and did nothing all day, letting her hair dry in its natural waves and lounging in her favourite loose jeans and a tank top. Today she felt an anxious twist in her stomach though. Nothing had been going right. From the moment she'd stubbed her toe getting out of bed that morning, stumbled angry and swearing to the kitchen and burnt her toast to a smoking crisp she knew it was going to be one of _those_ days.

Santana blinked blearily up at the ceiling from where she lay sprawled out on the couch in the living room and wondered how long she'd been out for, thinking she must have dozed off. She didn't move until she heard the doorbell ring loudly in her ears. With a groan she pealed herself away from her cushioned heaven and made her way to the front door, she didn't care who was there, she just wanted to stop the obnoxious _noise._

She dragged her feet and smoothed down her hair half-heartedly in an attempt to make herself somewhat presentable, having caught sight of the ruffled mess in the mirror above hanging in the hall. She did what she could, running her fingers through the tangles before giving up, with irritation she reached out towards the front door and opened it with a frown.

Wes had hoped that it would be Santana that opened the door and not her parents. He beamed at the brunette whose frown had morphed into an intense glower the moment she recognised him. He took in her dishevelled appearance, the way she squinted her eyes against the sun and the messy state of her long hair suggested she'd been sleeping. She looked pretty cute, in the way a sleeping lioness was cute: Sweet until they mauled you to death for waking them. Wes never being one for adhering to the silly idea of having a filter between his brain and mouth tilted his head to the side and took in her loose jeans, tight black casual tank top and the baggy blue cardigan.

"You look really cute." He said with a grin. She considered him blankly and then promptly closed the door in his face. Santana stared at the closed door for a second in silence. She'd been called a _lot_ of different things before, she inwardly smirked at some of the dirtier things she remembered. It was only a few seconds before Wes began banging on the door desperately again. Santana considered leaving him there until he gave up.

"Come on! I was only kidding! Look, if you let me in I'll let you see what I have in my bag!" This perked her interest.

_Curiosity killed the cat..._ warned the voice in her head.

She ignored the voice, opened the door a crack and stuck out her head.

"What's in the bag?" She raised her eyebrows and pouted her lips provocatively. She saw him swallow and blink at her, his eyes glazing over for a millisecond before he regained his composure. He straightened up and fixed her with an equally mischievous smirk. He leaned in closer, his added height meaning she had to tilt her head to maintain their gaze. His eyes were resolute and piercing, it made her uncomfortable but she wouldn't allow herself to move and inch. He took another step forward so that he was standing directly in front of her on the top step leading up to the door, keeping her trapped in his stare the whole time. Santana felt her body fill with heat, it wanted to close the space between them while her head screamed at her to remain where she was. Another agonizing few seconds passed and Santana thought she couldn't stay there any longer – but before she could move an inch forwards or backwards the silly lopsided grin transformed Wes back to his usual idiotic self and suddenly Santana was able to breathe again.

He held up the plastic bag wordlessly. Santana looked at the bag's contents with mild disgust and back to Wes who was looking immensely pleased with himself, she opened the door a little wider but kept her hand firmly gripping the handle to create a barrier between him and the house.

"I don't eat pizza." She sniffed, jutting out her chin stubbornly. Wes rolled his eyes and took a step forward, he curled his free hand around hers and prised it away from the doorframe, Santana snatched her hand away from the sudden touch that left a lingering heat prickling on her skin.

Too late she realised that in doing so she'd left the way open for Wes who swiftly made his way through the door without hesitation. He looked around the small entryway curiously with a smile.

"Whatever, everyone eats pizza."

Santana closed the door behind her and turned towards him with her hands on her hips.

"You're so fricking _pushy_."

"David tells me it's one of my best and worst traits." Santana dropped her arms and raised her fingers to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration. She didn't even want to know who the hell David was.

"How is it that I see your lips moving but nothing but _bullshit_ ever comes out?" She asked angrily, Wes didn't answer her, moving away from the hallway towards the lounge with long, confident strides.

"Hey! Where the hell do you think you're going?" Wes gave her a funny look over his shoulder.

"Where's your TV? You have a DVD player right?"

Santana remained frozen in the hallway. Before she could react Wes had disappeared around the corner. It took her a few seconds to compose herself but once she'd gotten over the initial shock that a strange boy who had no apparent sexual interest in her and had shown clear signs of complete and utter insanity was roaming free in her house. She contemplated this for a while as the fury begin to sear from some place deep within her.

Who the hell was this idiot to _wake her up_ and _invade_ her house? To invade her house _on a fricking Sunday? _ She clenched her teeth, mouth pulling into a single thin line and rolled her shoulders back ready for an attack.

_Shit's going down._

Wes, unknown to the fury he'd unleashed, had managed to find Santana's large plasma TV. He looked around the room curiously, like the rest of the house it felt cold. The hard wooden floors and the blank white walls lacked the warmth of a home and there was something rehearsed and deliberate about every single detail. The way the photo frames stood together, spaced with almost clinical precision, even the stack of magazines on the little black coffee table seemed like props, pristine and untouched.

Wes' eyes roamed to the plush, black, leather couch and smiled to himself. Cushions in disarray and a thick, black fur comforter in a tangled ball to the right, it was the only thing that suggested someone actually lived here. He walked over and ran his fingers across the soft, warm texture of the comforter. It was at that moment that an incredibly pissed Santana stalked into the room, eyes flashing dangerously.

"I'm going to ask you _once_, and you are going to _answer_ me." As she spoke her eyes narrowed into slits and her lip curled contemptuously around every single word. Hands on her hips she circled Wes like an animal contemplating her prey. She stopped for a second, "You got that?"

At this Wes smiled serenely.

"What are you _doing_ here and how the _hell_ did you find out where I _live_?" With every biting word she came closer and closer to him. Unfazed Wes smiled down at her and didn't even flinch even when she was inches apart from her.

"I'm here to watch movies and eat pizza with you. Friends do that right? Secondly you really shouldn't disclose your personally information on your facebook page, there are a lot of weirdo's out there." Santana was stunned into silence. She hadn't known what she'd expected from him, but it wasn't that and she certainly hadn't banked on his blunt honesty. She couldn't honestly say she found it completely unpleasant. She tilted her head to the side and her eyebrows pulled together, contemplating him. Wes' smile widened into a sloppy grin at the puzzled look on her face, having abandoned all her hot hair.

Santana wondered if this person was actually real. People weren't this hard to understand were they? He couldn't just be this way naturally. He must _want_ something.

"Are you always this damned honest?" Her question came out as an accusation. Wes laughed loudly, his eyes shining at her.

"Always." He finally replied, his laughter slowly fading away.

Santana felt a knot of anxiety in her stomach. It was sad really, that the sight of someone actually being honest in her home was so foreign to her. There was something disconcerting about him, he shouldn't belong but he somehow managed to not only stand the bitter atmosphere but his cheery disposition seemed to fill the entire room with something bright and new, mingling with her fiery hostility in harmony.

Wes had stopped laughing, but Santana remained deep in thought, her eyes glazed over. He noticed how she bit the corner of her lip lightly when she thought. With difficulty he tore his eyes away from the lip biting. He waved his hand slowly in front of her face. It didn't take her long to snap back into reality. Her lips pulled into a thin line, irritated at being forced to face the real world, _especially_ another confrontation with this intolerable idiot - An idiot that was now staring at her with blazing eyes that bore into hers with a ridiculous, overly dramatic intensity. She raised her eyebrows at him in silence. He raised two DVD cases that she hadn't even seen him retrieve. Great, now he was materializing objects. He was _actually_ driving her insane.

"I brought these." Santana studied the titles. Romantic Comedies.

"Ew..." Wes' face dropped as Santana's face contorted in disgust.

"_What?_ Everyone likes these films! They're classics!" Santana just shook her head and looked at him with an expression that could only be described as genuine sickness.

"I am totally judging you right now." Wes tilted his head and stared at her.

"Not a romcom girl, eh? Interesting..." Santana simply rolled her eyes at him and let herself sink down into the couch. Wes followed suit and, to Santana's surprise, sat at the opposite end of the sofa.

_So _now_ he chooses to respect personal space?_ She wondered if Wes had been dropped often as a baby.

"So what kind of movies _do_ you like?" He asked sceptically from the other end of the couch. Santana stared at him with a hard glint in her eye for a second before getting up and disappearing out of the room. Wes stared after her, confused, before he could get up to follow she'd reappeared and was walking towards him with a stack of DVD's and a smug smile. She threw the boxes at him and plonked ungracefully back down between the cushions. Wes gathered up the DVD's and squinted down at the first one. He recognised the title, Santana grinned at the appalled look he shot her.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Why else would I have them?" Wes stared at her, his mouth slightly agape. Santana flushed with triumph and snickered. This seemed to rouse Wes and he tore his eyes away, turning back to shuffling through the DVD cases, shaking his head with a smile.

"Saw, Saw II, Saw III, Hostel... This is just _weird_. You are _weird_."

"Seriously? I'm weird? That's rich coming from _you_ jackass..." Wes rolled his eyes and continued to study the cases. Santana noticed the crinkle that appeared in his brow, the way he licked his lip unconsciously...nervously. With an evil smirk she snatched up the case he was looking at and walked slowly to the DVD player, swaying her hips provocatively and bending down _just so_. Wes was silent, she resisted the urge to turn around and study his reaction as she popped the DVD out of the case. Wes stared at her, he didn't struggle for long with the steady heat rising in his body as Santana pressed 'Play' and the menu's music began to play. The atmospheric music filled Wes with a cold, growing dread that doused any other feelings running rampant through his body.

Santana returned to her spot, hugging a cushion to her chest and curling her legs beneath her. With satisfaction she saw Wes tense out of the corner of her eye as the movie began to run. She noted the pizza box that Wes had thrown down between them, she reached across and pulled out the box.

"What kind of pizza did you get?" she asked, opening the box suspiciously.

"Huh...? Oh, it's beef, peppers and chilli's." He answered, distracted. He tore his eyes away from the screen to look at her briefly. "Sorry, I didn't know what kind you liked so I just got my favourite. Kurt said you liked spicy food so I thought it'd be fine..."

"It'll do." She took out a slice of pizza and bit into it cautiously. She didn't tell him that it was her favourite kind too. They sat in silence as the first person got hacked to pieces.

* * *

"NO! DON'T DO THAT!" Wes screamed at the screen, one hand flailing uselessly towards the screen the other wrapped in an iron grip around Santana's arm. Santana gawped at him. It had only been twelve minutes since she'd pressed play. In which time Santana had learnt that Wes and horror movies where a recipe for complete and utter disaster and that now that she'd lost the full function of her left arm that she appreciated it a lot more. To her right Wes flinched again, she felt the muscle in his arms flex a little tighter against her own, now numb, arm.

"_Oh shit_." He groaned and slapped his forehead as yet another gore fest began to unfold at the screen, he buried his head in his and Santana's linked arms. "I can't look!"

"You know, this isn't how this is supposed to play out..." Santana growled glaring down at him. She was usually the one that acted scared, guys seemed to love it when she held on to them and screamed in all the worst scenes. The thing is Wes really didn't seem like he was _acting_. Not at all unsurprisingly it really didn't have the same affect when it was the guy freaking out... He nodded vigorously in response, his eyes wide and serious.

"You're telling me! Why would you even answer the door? It's ridiculous!" He yelled half at her, half to the panicked characters running across the screen. Santana rolled her eyes.

"_Ridiculous_." She echoed, tugging at her trapped arm. Wes squeezed tighter and made a strange squealing noise as a particularly bloody scene played out. It was going to be a long hour and a half. In the back of her mind she heard the little mocking voice she usually reserved for Rachel chew her out.

"_You asked for it."_

Santana looked over at Wes and wondered.

Because she never asked for anything but he always seemed to _know_. Sure it was really irritating but worse than that it scared the hell out of her. How was she meant to maintain her composure when this boy always left her one step behind, sprinting to keep up. She couldn't act with someone she could never predict. A part of her wished she'd sent him home instead of humouring him because with every second that ticked by the fear in her stomach grew stronger. The fear of rejection and humiliation hung above her like a constant black cloud that she could never dispel. Then Wes turned and grinned that bright, wide smile that created light even in the darkness that had descended over the house. Santana sighed a little, eyes flickering to Wes, her arm trapped in his strong, warm grip. She let herself lean against him and relax.

How could she fear rejection from a boy who screamed like a girl and cringed away from the sight of fake blood?

Wes smiled to himself as he felt the added weight of Santana's body leaning against his and tightened his grip a little around her arm.

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**A/N Hope you liked it :) Next update will hopefully be quicker, thanks for reading! **


	4. Coffee

**A/N As always thank you all for your kind reviews and everyone who added me to their favourites or to their alerts list, every time I get an e-mail I smile! Here's the next chapter, hope you like it! **

**Disclaimer: Still not mine. **

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Somewhere between Saw VI and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Santana accepted that she and Wes could be friends. Anyone that squeamish that willingly sat through hour after hour of merciless gore was probably someone she could get along well with. Wes had stayed in her house screaming and flailing like a little girl until a little past ten. Her mother hadn't returned home but she had called her to let her know that she'd be staying at Greg's so in a way it had been a comfort to have him there. Sam was out of town for the weekend, he'd sent her a few texts that she'd replied to half heartedly but with the smug knowledge that it was _her_ he was texting and not Quinn. It was an odd feeling, she'd had a guy over who wasn't her boyfriend, or anyone's boyfriend for that matter, and they hadn't fooled around. She almost felt like she was doing something wrong. Normal people were often at a loss to find logic in Santana's warped morals.

She hadn't had a guy friend before, not outside the parameters of the 'benefits' set-up. Kurt didn't really count, they'd never been that close even after spending time together at cheerios the year before. Despite that, they'd always seemed to have an understanding of sorts. She'd missed his biting sarcasm more than she'd expected to and although she never said anything she'd seen how his confidence and happiness had wilted over the course of the year. It had made her sad and it had made her angry; Angry at him, herself, the rest of the glee club, _Karofsky_. She's wanted him to be better, to be normal again. He was always a nice, if slightly less offensive, counterpart to her cutting words. She also worried about the affect some of her words had on him towards the end. It made her feel guilty and Santana didn't like feeling guilty. She'd usually stop thinking about Kurt the moment that uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach set in. This time though, she allowed her mind to wander in directions she usually fiercely avoided.

It was thoughts of Kurt that occupied her brain as she pulled into the car park outside the little coffee shop Wes had given her directions for. She parked the car, turned off the engine and automatically pulled down the sun-visor to study her reflection in the little mirror. She applied a slick of gloss and fluffed her hair before getting out of the car and locking it. The coffee shop was small but the amount of people crammed in there gave it a bustling life. She was just reaching out to pull the door when it opened outwards towards her. Santana came face to face with two familiar boys, the taller one laughing in a way she hadn't seen before. The way his eyes lit up at the shorter, dark haired student next to him pulled a little at Santana's heart. Eventually the light blue-grey eyes found hers and there it was again, the guarded expression she'd come to recognise so well.

"Santana," Kurt blinked at her in surprise, his arched brows rising. "What are you doing here?"

Santana shifted her gaze between Kurt and the dark-haired boy who had sung during Kurt's singles awareness party. The latter giving her a bright, polite smile. She smirked a little at this and opened her mouth to answer him but before she could say anything a great force descended upon the two unsuspecting boys, wrapping his arms around their shoulders and leaning heavily so that Kurt and the other boy's heads bowed against the weight.

"Blaine! Kurt! Where are you two sneaking off to at this glorious Sunday afternoon?" The trapped boys struggled against him but he didn't even flinch. He noticed Santana and he smiled broadly, eyes widening in excitement. "Santana!" She stared at him curiously; the fact that she was becoming immune to his boisterous personality was an unnerving sign.

"Wes damn it! Get off me! Better yet, let go of Kurt!" The short boy swatted in vain against Wes' bulk and added height. Santana recognised the mad grin and the gleaming eyes, they were the same ones he'd used that first afternoon where he'd ruined her hair. Having fallen victim to Wes' vice-grip before she knew from the past experience that no matter how hard you struggled it was practically impossible to escape.

"Blaine! I have to admit, that is very un-dapper of you" scolded Wes. Blaine continued to struggle as Wes leaned down to Blaine's ear and added in a loud conspiratorially whisper, "There is a lady in our midst little one." Wes' eyes locked with Santana's and he winked. Santana tried and failed to repress the very_ un_ladylike snort that escaped her lips. The short boy who she supposed was Blaine coloured a little at that but his mouth curved into a grimace, from his grumbling she could deduce the words 'little one' being repeated with enough venom to kill. Wes looked pleased with himself. It was at that moment that a squirming Kurt growled angrily.

"Wes, if you get my hair even remotely ruffled - I will end you." The last threat was uttered with added vehemence, each word executed with perilous emphasis. All three boys froze for a second as Wes considered Kurt seriously. He must have decided that Kurt's was a valid threat because he released them both from his grip. They both straightened up, Kurt brushing off his shoulders primly and shooting a filthy look towards Wes; Blaine adjusting his skewed tie looking disgruntled.

"Why we let you go anywhere unsupervised I'll never understand..." He shook his head, an expression of affectionate exasperation on his face. Santana studied his face with interest. Sure he was a little on the short side and his eyebrows where a little - well they certainly _weren't_ little_ –_ but despite that he exuded something incredibly attractive. Santana smiled suggestively at him, he looked a little surprised but gave her a playful grin in return. In the few seconds their exchange took both Kurt and Wes jumped into action. Kurt wrapped his fingers protectively around Blaine's arm and narrowed his eyes at Santana whereas Wes shifted around and placed one of his hands gently on her arm.

"Gay, Santana, Blaine is Gay."Santana didn't usually get to see Kurt so flustered, it was fun to watch his eyes catch fire again. Blaine was looking at Kurt's fingers clutching his arm tightly with a slightly bemused expression, Kurt saw where Blaine's gaze had rested and flushed to his ears. Their eyes met for a second and it was then that Santana finally began to understand. Seeing her ex-classmate like this made her realise how morose and lonely he'd become back at McKinley. Kurt relaxed his grip, he swallowed and took a deep breath before turning his attention back to Santana, he began to say something and stopped, noticing Wes' hand still shadowing Santana's forearm. Her eyes moved in the same direction as though she'd only just noticed. Santana considered the hand curiously and grinned. While Blaine remained oblivious Wes and Kurt both saw the evil glimmer in her eyes and prepared themselves.

"Kurt and – Blaine was it? Are clearly both suffering from a serious case of repressed sexual tension," stated Santana with a smirk and a wink at an appalled Kurt who glanced frantically at an amused Blaine. She focused on Wes and lowered her voice playfully "what's your excuse?"

Wes grinned a little but didn't let go of her arm. His eyes burning down into hers.

"Something along those lines..." There was the irritating fluttering again. It always came back to haunt her. It made her nervous and angry as well as taking the fun out of her provocations. She pressed her lips together tightly and turned away from him. Kurt was staring at her angrily. She tried not to flinch under the judging stare.

"What?" Santana hissed. Kurt shook his head slightly, stepping towards her so that Wes and Blaine couldn't hear Kurt's low tone. They both seemed to take the hint and Wes promptly began talking animatedly with Blaine, occasionally ruffling the shorter boy's hair, much to his poorly disguised irritation.

"You know, Sam's a really nice guy..." he began, eyes meaningful. She frowned at him and raised her eyebrows. Kurt waved his hand dismissively, "Mercedes gives me weekly New Direction's dating updates. My sources tell me that you are currently dating one Sam Evans." Santana's frown deepened and her eyes narrowed at him.

"What does that have to do with anything?" She asked. Kurt placed his hands on his hips and narrowed his eyes right back at her.

"It has to do with everything Santana." She saw how his eyes flickered over to Wes and back to her. Inside the slow burning fury was growing in heat and intensity. She wasn't doing anything wrong, this time the accusations really were unwarranted.

"You don't know _anything_." She retorted angrily. Kurt crossed his arms and pinched the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath before continuing.

"Look, what you do at McKinley? That... that doesn't affect me anymore." She noticed how his voice faltered a little, the flicker of pain in his eyes as they raised to meet hers. "What are you doing with Wes?"

Santana didn't know how she was going to answer him when she opened her mouth to speak but she felt like her words would amount to nothing anyway. She was the slut, the bitch. Nothing she could say would ever make any difference to them, so why not give them what they expected? She composed herself and fixed Kurt with a withering glare. She sneered at him and was about to give him exactly the kind of dirty, scathing comments he would expect from her when a pair of familiar strong arms wrapped their way awkwardly around her neck. Wes weight made her knees buckle a little but she somehow managed to stay upright.

"Wes what the hell–" She began to whine before he cut across her, answering Kurt's question for her.

"We're friends!" He chirped happily. She couldn't see his face but she heard his sloppy, goofy grin in his excitable voice. She didn't even try to resist, she watched Kurt's confused expression with a twinge of smug satisfaction.

"Friends...?" Kurt asked sceptically, pointedly ignoring the big grinning buffoon currently constricting Santana's air supply and kept his eyes fixed on the girl before him. In truth, for Santana, the jury was still out on that one. It worked as well as anything else right now though. She shrugged at Kurt with a roll of her eyes.

Kurt still looked confused but his attention quickly refocused when Blaine squeezed his shoulder gently. Santana was about to say something catty when the arms wrapped around her own shoulders tightened slightly and she felt the head rested on hers shake from side to side. She compromised by heaving a heavy, deliberate sigh and pouting. Her disguised protests fell on deaf ears as it became apparent that Kurt didn't care for anything other than the boy smiling at him and suggesting they leave quickly before they missed the first screening of the film they were going to see. Kurt smiled serenely and agreed without protest. Blaine aimed a punch at Wes' arm as they left. He grinned at Santana as Wes doubled over in exaggerated pain.

"I'll get Kurt to text you with David's number, it's essential for any sane person who spends more than a few minutes a day with him." He nodded over her head at Wes. Kurt gave Wes a meaningful look before shooting Santana the same one with added suspicion.

As they walked away in the direction of Kurt's navigator Wes released her and gave a frustrated sigh. She turned to look at him questioningly to see him staring at the two boys getting into the big black car, he glanced down at her briefly.

"Sorry, I just wish they'd get together already!" Wes shook his head with a half-smile playing at his lips, he shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck.

"So...coffee?" He asked at last.

"I'll probably need it if I'm planning on spending any time with you." She said pushing past Wes and into the coffee shop. Wes grinned at her and bounced eagerly behind her into the warmth of the coffee shop.

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"You know, she really didn't seem quite as bad as you made out Kurt..." Blaine noted as Kurt drove them out of the parking lot. Kurt gave him a quick sideways glance the set of his mouth hardening.

"You don't know her like I do," Said Kurt, his mind flooding with an unpleasant montage of Santana's schemes playing out in his head, "She'll probably crush Wes as a part of some plan to elevate her own social standing, or as revenge over someone else back at McKinley." The frustrated words were sharp and hung in the air between them. Blaine pondered this for a little while, watching the world fly by the windows. Kurt's eyes flicked to him and back nervously. Blaine noticed that and turned back to look at his best friend with a vague little smile.

"I think you're underestimating Wes." Blaine's eyes had clouded over in a far away expression, Kurt was about to ask him what he was thinking about when the warm hazel eyes refocused. Kurt's eyes locked with his briefly before turning back to the road.

"Is that right...?" Asked Kurt with a slight smirk, Blaine stretched his legs out and leaned his head against the head rest.

"I know he acts like a complete moron but there's more going on in that crazy mind than you might expect." Blaine paused and sipped from his Styrofoam coffee cup seeming deep in thought.

"He might even be good for her you know... Wes has a pretty unique effect on people." Blaine laughed to himself. He saw the scepticism in Kurt's face, his slender fingers drumming the steering wheel irritably.

"You don't know him like I do." He echoed Kurt's words. Kurt glanced at him and sighed in defeat, he couldn't argue with those eyes.

"Fine," he conceded reluctantly, "But don't say I didn't warn you."

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As they took their place in line Wes looked over at Santana. He could tell that she was deep in thought from the way she nibbled at her lip slightly, he stared at those lips until she finally came back from wherever her mind had wandered. She turned towards him and opened her mouth to speak but seemed to think better of it and sealed her lips tightly together with a shake of her head.

"What?" he encouraged, squeezing the tips of her fingers lightly. The touch was brief but it left a pleasant heat mingling through her fingertips. She mulled her thoughts over for a second and then asked him her question in a quiet voice.

"Is he... is Kurt better now? I mean... he's happy right?" Wes' heart felt like it grew a little in his chest, Santana was staring down at their shoes and biting her lip self-consciously. He smiled at how young and vulnerable it made her seem, he resisted the urge to brush away a stray strand of hair that kept falling into her eyes.

"Yeah, I think he's getting there but..." Santana's eyes became worried as he trailed off so he rushed to finish his sentence, "I think, from what Blaine's told me, he misses you all a lot." Her eyes softened and she nodded slowly. Wes sensing that she didn't want to breach the subject further launched into a heartfelt debate, mostly with himself, on the pro's and con's of using complicated dance routines during performances. Santana relaxed into the conversation, content in the knowledge that at least someone from New Directions, even if he wasn't technically a part of their group anymore was doing something right.

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**A/N – Kurt and Blaine seem to have hijacked this chapter a little! Next chapter is going to be based around Blame it on the Alcohol episode, I wasn't planning on following episodes but they just gave some wonderful Santana stuff to work with, so I'm going to be picking up on some of that I think. Drunk!Santana and Wes should be fun... I've got a long weekend so I'll hopefully have it out on or before Monday. Any reviews would be amazing, you make my day :) Thanks!**


	5. Phonecall

**A/N It's been too long since my last update, sorry! Coursework is eating away most of my life. So without any further rambling from me I give you this!**

**Disclaimer: It's Ryan Murphy's. **

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Wes jumped awake, his phone ringing loudly in his ear. He scrambled desperately in the darkness to stop the noise as quickly as he could. Waking David at this kind of hour was surely asking for death. He glanced at the clock on the desk. The glowing red numbers read 2_:47_. Eventually he found his phone buried beneath his pillows, he pressed the 'silent' button and inhaled sharply in surprise. The phone's screen was lit up with an image of an incredibly disgruntled girl who had been caught on camera mid-rant. Worried he answered the phone, glancing briefly across the room at his sleeping roommate. He answered the phone in a loud whisper.

"Santana? What's wrong?" Wes' voice was gruff from sleep. He cleared his throat slightly and waited for her to answer. Through the speaker came the sound of uneven breath and muffled sniffling. A cold ice began snaking its way inside Wes' body. "_Santana?_" He asked again, firmer and louder this time.

"Everyone hates me." She wailed. Wes looked at the phone suspiciously before placing it back to his ear. "You hate me don't you? Why do you hate me Wes?" The frantic questions burst out through the speaker in a whiny desperation. Wes' jaw dropped and he forgot all about his sleeping roommate in his haste to reassure the sniffling girl at the other end of the cell phone. It must be someone else. There was no way Santana would ask anything like that. Unless...

Vaguely Wes remembered Blaine saying something about one of Kurt's friends' having a party that he was tagging along to.

_So she's a sad drunk..._

"You hate me! You hate me!" She continued to wail.

"Of course I don't hate you! Shh, breathe, it's okay..." he murmured sleepily sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Wes listened to her argue hotly back in silence for a moment while his still half asleep mind struggled to comprehend the stream of barely coherent rambling coming from the speaker.

"You hate me and I'm not perfect and sad and awesome!"

"Santana... are you drunk...?" he asked gently cutting her off. His eyes flickered to David's bed as he waited for her to answer. His best friend was awake and glaring so viciously Wes was pretty sure he was contemplating causing him serious injury. Wes widened his eyes desperately at him and held up a hand.

"I'm drunk!" She cried shrilly. "I'm drunk and everything _sucks_." Wes winced as she began crying again. Crying girls were bad enough but a crying _Santana?_ He wondered if this was all some horrible, horrible nightmare.

"Wesley..." growled David from the other side of the room. No, not a nightmare, he was definitely awake. Not even a dream could conjure up something as terrifying as sleep-deprived David. Wes shot him a wide-eyed look and mouthed "What do you expect me to do?"

David jabbed his finger angrily at the door. Wes rolled his eyes and flung back the covers, whispering comforting nonsense and hushing Santana over the phone, and stumbled through the dark. David pulled the thick duvet over his head and by the time he closed the door as quietly as he could behind him he could hear the faint noise of David's snores through the cracks.

"Where are you?"

"At home," she sniffed before embarking on yet another tangent. "Wes, the party _sucked_. Quinn is all sad and awesome and blonde and _God_ everyone just _loves_ Quinn don't they?" She huffed bitterly. Before Wes could interject and tell her he didn't _know_ Quinn she was off again.

"Maybe I should dye my hair blonde..." she mused, "Wes I'd make a good blonde right? I'd be_ hot_." Wes tried to muffle his laughter as he made his way down his corridor to the kitchen at the end of his floor.

"No, I don't think you should dye your hair." He murmured as he dragged one of the chairs across the kitchen and hopped onto the counter leaning his feet on the chair.

"Why not? I bet you _love _blondes. _Every_ guy loves blondes -" She broke off and something important seemed to dawn on her. She gasped dramatically, "You like Quinn don't you? Wes you like Quinn too! You like her better than me! You hate me!" She accused, her voice shaking as though on the brink of tears. Wes shook his head in exasperation but deep down he was somewhat enjoying himself... he knew how mortified Santana would be in the morning and he'd be right there to tease her mercilessly about it. Unfortunately he doubted drunken Santana would be able to handle being mocked right now, so instead he went for honesty.

"I prefer brunettes actually..." He confessed, grinning in the darkness and imagining the reaction a comment like that would earn him from a sober Santana. The contrast between the headstrong, tough girl he'd encountered in the past and the vulnerable crying girl at the other end of the phone was more than a little mind-blowing. He wouldn't judge, he'd mock her later of course but he wouldn't judge. This new weakness just made her that bit more human like everyone else. The sniffling at the other end of the line stopped abruptly. After a pause he heard her release the breath she'd been holding it crackled into the receiver over the phone.

"You...You do?" She asked in a small voice that pulled at Wes' heart. He wanted to reach through the phone and wrap his arms around her tiny waist... but their relationship had to remain platonic. Kurt had made it clear that she was off limits. Not that Wes was the type to hit on other people's girlfriends, but he still felt like Santana needed someone outside her crazy world. What did it matter if that meant a whole lot of new crazy?

"I do." He assured her sincerely and smiled in silence before remembering something Blaine had told him earlier that day.

"So was this the super secret New Directions party Blaine and Kurt have infiltrated?"

Santana snorted and then there was silence at the other end of the phone. He wondered if she'd fallen asleep, then he remembered something Trent always did when he was drunk and on the phone to his girlfriend. He could imagine it now.

"Santana, people can't usually tell that you're nodding when you're on the phone." He teased. Santana gasped.

"Ohmygod how did you know that I was...Wait... Ew, Wes you're not outside my window like stalking me are you? Because I've been down that road before and it's no fun!" This alarmed Wes a little and he made a note to ask Kurt about any stalking incidents surrounding the petite Latina. He leaned back in the chair and stretched his legs.

"No, I just know you-" the rest of his sentence was drowned out by the monstrous yawn that had been building ever since her call had awakened him. He sat in silence with her for a minute, fighting his drooping eyelids. He balled up a hand and rubbed his eyes with his fist. Eventually he couldn't contain the question he'd been burning to ask ever since he'd seen her face flash up on his caller ID.

"Why did you call me Santana?"

She didn't answer immediately, but the uneven breathing he could hear in his eat told him she was still awake.

"I don't know..." She admitted in at last in quiet confusion. "I think... I just..." She took a deep, shaking breath as she tried to collect her scattered thoughts through the drunken haze. Her voice was soft and more vulnerable than he'd ever heard it.

"Sometimes..." She sighed softly in resignation. "Sometimes I just... I want to, you know, talk to someone. But I guess I never had anyone to call before." The frown and confusion was evident in her voice but the honest words hung between them with a charge of hope. Wes struggled to keep the spark of happiness that blossomed in his chest out of his voice as she waited for him to reply.

"You can always call me." The words were sincere and not even Santana; in all her drunken insecure, misery, could deny that he meant every word.

"Thank you." She whispered. Wes smiled and he heard her yawn.

"I'm sleepy Wes..." she mumbled, voice thickening in exhaustion. Wes decided it was adorable.

"Go to sleep Santana, we'll go buy some coffee and sweet stuff to counteract the killer hangover you'll be experiencing tomorrow, how does that sound?"

"It sounds...great." She yawned again, a delicate sound that would have sounded out of place on the Santana he'd grown to know the past few weeks.

"I'll pick you up at twelve. I'll text you again in the morning so you don't forget."

"Great." She repeated sleepily.

"Goodnight Santana."

"Goodnight Wes."She mumbled. There was a click and the line went dead. Wes slid his phone closed and leaned his elbows on the table. He pressed the phone to his forehead and tried to conceal the smile that curved up the corners of his mouth.

It wasn't until the next morning when David walked into the kitchen, poured himself a glass of cold water from the tap and preceded to unceremoniously pour that water all over his snoring best friend that Wes realised in a blur of profanities that he'd fallen asleep at the kitchen table still holding his phone.

* * *

By the time Wes had chased David up and down the dorm, awakened all the disgruntled boys on his floor, gotten changed and kicked out of the dorm by those very same disgruntled boys and pulled up outside of Santana's house he'd already devised his revenge on David. As he got out of his car and hopped happily up the steps he felt quite accomplished for so early in the morning. He rang the bell repetitively with ruthless glee. Through the frosted glass of the door he saw a short figure shuffling towards the door. He could hear her cursing in a muted voice as the door opened at last.

"Well don't you look just positively _radiant_ this morning!" Gushed Wes when Santana locked eyes with him and realised who it was. He was met with the most vicious scowl he had ever seen. He smiled brightly at her and she narrowed her eyes. She was dressed in a tight black tank top and loose blue sweat pants, a sliver of skin exposed between the fabrics.

"Stop yelling!" She whined through gritted teeth."And your _face, y_our stupid _smug_ face. It hurts my eyes more than the damn sun." Santana turned away from the doorway and walked towards the archway at the end of the hall, she left the front door ajar behind her. Wes stepped inside and closed the door behind him before following her into the kitchen.

"What are you even _doing_ here?" Santana grumbled pulling back a metallic dining chair with a high, curling back and dropping heavily into it. She folded her arms on the long chic dining table and leaned her head on top, her wavy hair fell loosely over hair shoulders onto the table. The whole kitchen was modern and sleek, black and white and silver surfaces everywhere with the same air of pristine cleanliness as he'd experienced in the rest of the house. Wes, as a force of pure undeterred chaos, would never get used to it. He walked over to the table running his fingers across the cool black surface, fingers briefly finding a lock of soft silky hair. He pulled back his hand and occupied the seat opposite her.

"Don't tell me you don't remember our conversation last night!" He exclaimed in mock astonishment. Santana stiffened. With an almost painful slowness she raised her head to see the first traces of mischief flashing in Wes' grinning face.

"I didn't!" She pleaded as her face flooded with heat and mortification. He nodded enthusiastically as he beamed at her. She shrunk back in her chair, burying her head in her arms once more.

"Urgh... I need to stop drunk-dialling..."

"I've got to admit..." he mused leaning back in his chair and tapping his chin thoughtfully. "I never had you pegged as a sad drunk. I pictured you being much more aggressive..." He laughed as she moaned into her arms.

"I don't know which one would be the most amusing."

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" She protested angrily. Wes continued undeterred.

"Does sober-Santana still want to be a blonde?" That particular question seemed to have an impact, she flinched slightly but enough so that Wes noticed. Without warning her head shot up her eyes blazing fiercely.

"Why do you always have to be such a fucking smartass!" The chair screeched angrily against the hard tile kitchen floor as Santana rose and stormed angrily around her kitchen.

"You just show up whenever you want! Spoilt little prep-boy." Wes watched her snarling with a little amusement but he couldn't help but feel a little twinge of guilt as he noted the dark circles under her red eyes.

"I bet you've always been given _exactly_ what you want! You come waltzing up here to my house and just expect me to answer to your every stupid little _whim_?"

He watched calmly from the table as she expelled every single burning word from her body delivering them with as much venom she could muster in her hung-over misery. She ran out of steam and still breathing heavily glared at his impassive face. Santana was annoyed at the lack of reaction from Wes and her head ached worse than ever. She decided the pain resounding in her skull was worse than the bitter pain of wounded pride and shuffled back to the seat opposite Wes. Her hangover was too horrific for her words to be as cutting as she'd like.

"I hate you." She informed him before resuming her former hunched position as if nothing had happened.

"Would you hate me less if I get you some killer coffee to cancel out the killer hangover like we discussed yesterday?" He asked her lightly.

"Stop talking about conversations I can't remember Wes." She snapped irritably but then seemed to consider his offer.

"You'll... buy me coffee?" Wes smiled at her.

"As much as you can drink." He assured but then tilted his head and looked at her pointedly. "But I think you might want to change first." She looked up at him aghast.

"What do you mean? I thought _you_ would get the coffee and bring it _here_." Wes shook his head with a grin.

"Not a chance, you my dear are coming with me. So come on," Santana raised her eyebrows sceptically at the 'my dear', he jumped up from his the seat and tried to encourage Santana to do the same by holding her by the shoulders. She swatted at his hands but rose from her seat begrudgingly.

"Give me twenty minutes." She grumbled and shuffled out of the kitchen.

* * *

In reality it took Santana 48 minutes to make herself presentable. Wes knew that it was 48 minutes exactly because he'd spent the entire time fidgeting in boredom and glancing at his phone as the minutes dragged by. Ten minutes later they pulled into the parking lot of a small coffee shop in Lima that Santana had suggested. Wes killed the ignition. He had driven, insisting that Santana's blood alcohol level was still way too high to be responsible for both of their lives behind the wheel. He turned to look at her and raised his eyebrows.

"Those sunglasses aren't fooling anyone, you know that right?" Santana removed the sunglasses to glower at him but opened her purse and dropped them inside before turning away from him and exiting the car. Wes did the same, locking it and walking over to where Santana was standing on the other.

She shifted her weight, hesitating. Wes rolled his eyes and grabbed her shoulders, directing her towards the glass doors. Santana inhaled deeply and moaned in appreciation.

"Coffee..." she purred as they stepped in away from the cold. Wes spotted a small table to the back of the confined, cosy space and propelled the hung-over teen towards it, she plopped herself down ungracefully and bowed over, crossing her arms on the table and placing her head gingerly on her arms. Wes sighed.

"Stay here, I'll get us coffee while you sit and try not to puke okay?" Santana grumbled into her arms, sounding suspiciously like 'no promises', but didn't make any attempt to move. Wes left her to wallow in her alcohol-induced hell and walked over to the counter to order their coffee. As he waited he stared back over at the motionless figure in the corner of the cafe. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a tall, muscular boy wearing a Football jacket leering in her direction. Wes did his best to placate the awful green monster that seemed to have taken root in his chest but it was useless. Despite that he couldn't help but be impressed, even slumped over and drunk from the night before she was attracting attention. Wes drummed his fingers on the counter in agitation as he waited for their order. He didn't take his eyes off the dark-haired figure drowsing unsuspectingly away.

Wes had never been a jealous person so the unjustifiable irritation possessing his body was an unnerving feeling. He had to remind himself for a second that as nothing but a friend, and barely that, he had no real right to feel jealous. In fact it would be extremely ironic for him, as he bought coffee for another guy's girlfriend, to feel jealous. His eyes flickered back and forth between the two figures. Santana and her arms sprawled across the faux wooden table didn't even glance up in either of their directions.

Hell, it wasn't jealousy he decided, he was just looking out for her - Like he looked out for _all_ of his friends. Although thinking of Santana as a friend did nothing but awaken a whole other wave of frustration within him. He drummed his fingers a little harder on the cold, black counter, his eyes flickered to the jock who was still leering appreciatively at Santana. The boy pushed back his chair with a smug smirk and began to rise from his seat when at that moment the barista called out a coffee order for Wes. He grabbed the cups hastily flashing a quick smile to the girl behind the counter before closing the space between him and Santana in a few long strides.

"Here, take this." He said hastily and sat down opposite Santana pushing the coffee cup towards her. He glanced over at the leeching guy who had slumped back down into his chair dejectedly, the two boys glared at each other until Santana, still in a state of obliviousness, raised her head and stole Wes' attention with her fiery brown eyes. She blinked blearily at him her eyes' usual shine dulled by fatigue and cupped her hands around the steaming cup.

"Mmm..." she breathed in. Wes tilted his head and noticed her mascara had smudged a little under her eyes. Without thinking he reached out and rubbed the dark smudge away with his thumb. His hand lingered there, ghosting over her soft cheek. The alcohol that still lingered in her veins slowed her reactions but in the additional seconds it took for Santana to register what was happening and swat his hand away all she could think about was how warm and big Wes hand seemed against her cheek. Wes pulled away as she slapped his hand. He grinned at her as usual but there was a rueful glint in his eye, it gave him the youthful appearance of a scolded child.

"Idiot..." She mumbled grumpily. Wes ignored her, still smiling, and stirred the sugar into his coffee cup.

"So how much did you actually drink last night?" He asked absently, focused on his coffee.

Santana glared at him, he wasn't even _trying_ to hide the amusement in his voice. Eventually she sighed and answered him after a long gulp of her drink, enjoying the pleasant sensation of the warm liquid almost scalding its way down her throat.

"I can't even remember," she groaned "one second I was drinking Rachel's lame-ass coolers..." Wes smiled at the way her eyes scrunched up tightly in concentration. She let out a defeated noise and she seemed to visibly deflate, returning to her previous position resting her chin on her folded arms.

"Santana, Santana..." he shook his head at her with an affectionate grin. A little bubble of warmth blossomed in her chest, the way Wes said her name was odd. Usually when people said her name it sounded like an insult, something detestable. She didn't mind, it was just another way of concreting her place as McKinley's top bitch. Even Kurt hadn't been able to best her of that. This new way of being addressed though... it was strange but she couldn't say it was unpleasant.

"So you don't remember calling me at all?" Santana's head shot up eyes guarded.

"Do we really have to talk about that?" She rubbed her temples and closed her eyes.

"I'd say we do."

"I'm never drinking again..." She moaned.

"That's what they all say!" Wes sang happily. "Does that mean you remember?"

"I remember okay? And I'm embarrassed as hell so just give it a fricking rest." Wes wanted to continue teasing her but decided to keep it in and save it for another day. He beamed at her and her nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Why are you always so damned _cheerful _all?" She accused irritably. Wes tilted his head to the side, resting it on the hand he'd propped up on the table, considering her question seriously.

"It's really not that hard, you should try it Santana."Wes winked over his coffee cup and she rolled her eyes but she felt the blush creeping up her cheeks and frowned again.

"One day, and I hope that day comes for you very _soon, w_hen you're this hung-over don't you dare come crying to me for sympathy." She said jabbing her index finger at him. Wes' expression twisted a little, the ever-present smile faltering. She frowned at him, her eyebrows drawing together in question. He took a second to gather his thoughts then confessed with a mysterious smile.

"I don't drink." The words hung between them for a second as though waiting for something more to be said and the whole world seemed to stand still around them. Santana broke the bubble of tension that had enveloped them with an exaggerated roll of her bloodshot eyes.

"Of course you don't," she snorted disbelievingly but when her eyes met his she saw that they were serious.

"Of _course_ you don't." She repeated, softer this time but wrapped in the same irritated tone.

"Why do you always have to be -Perfect?" Santana leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms tightly against her chest. Wes bowed his head and glanced up with her with a smug smile pulling at his lips.

_That can't be anything good..._

"You think I'm perfect?" Heat flooded Santana's face. Flustered, her thoughts raced to find a coherent response. She covered her mortification with her best bitch stare but even that couldn't maintain its usual conviction.

"_Please." _Wes laughed at her but she noticed it didn't light up his entire face like it usually did. Santana occupied herself with stirring her coffee and they fell into a silence that wasn't uncomfortable or awkward. Eventually Wes started up a conversation that he seemed to be able to maintain with himself, Santana offering half-hearted grunts in response.

He was right, she remembered the conversation they'd had. She remembered how she'd eventually gotten home and stumbled through her house blindly and collapsing on her bed. She remembered finding her phone with bleary eyes at the bottom of her purse and searching for the face she wanted to see. She'd seen her blonde best friend's dopey smile and hit call. It had been engaged. She'd fallen back against her pillows miserably. Angry indignant tears ran down her face as she wallowed in the profound loneliness that alcohol always seemed to instil in her. She considered reaching for the bottle she'd hidden in her wardrobe before remembering that Brittany wasn't the only one she could call. She remembered searching through a blur of unfriendly faces and finding the one face that grinned up at her without a shred of judgement. She remembered calling Wes and the conversation she'd had with him.

More than anything she remembered the warm feeling Wes' soothing words had left in her body as she hung up the phone. She remembered being lulled to sleep with the comforting knowledge that somebody cared.

* * *

**A/N Long chapter for the wait? I stayed up till ridiculous AM to finish this as it seems I've gotten into the slightly annoying habit of writing late at night... As long as you enjoy it it's fine! As always thank you so, so much for your wonderful reviews. They mean so much and never fail to brighten my day so any more you send my way are greatly appreciated! **

**Now I'm going to stop rambling and sleep. Thanks for reading, let me know what you think. **


	6. Spontaneity

**A/N Urgh too long to update I'M SO SORRY. I'll leave the rest of my rambles for the end of this chapter. Hope you like it! **

* * *

It was easier for the Warblers to detect the subtle changes that occurred in Wes than it was for the New Directions' members to notice the difference in Santana. There were many reasons for this but in the end it mostly fell down to Wes' utter inability to keep anything to himself and Santana's impeccable knack for internalising any emotions she found hard to deal with.

Santana liked sarcasm. Sarcasm was always a safe option for her. It was hard to pinpoint exactly when this particular defence mechanism had surfaced but she suspected its origins lay in her early childhood where she'd began to mimic her mother's patronising tone, because as much as Santana was loathe to admit it her and her mother were very similar.

For the next few weeks Wes would drive down to Lima at least once a week and they kept in close contact via text and IMing for the days in between. For Santana the strangest thing was the fact that not doing anything wrong felt, well, wrong. It was an odd experience, not to say it was unpleasant, but there was something therapeutic in Wes' zeal for life. His enthusiasm and optimism balanced out the gloom and anger wrapped around Santana. On occasion the constant, secret knot of anxiety in the pit of her stomach would loosen and she could breathe without the fear of inadequacy weight down her chest. More often than not these blessed moments of clarity and lightness happened when she was with Wes. At first she couldn't understand why this was. Why did she feel more comfortable around someone she'd known barely two months than she had with anyone else?

She thought of everyone at McKinley. Of course she couldn't relax around them. How could she when she was clinging so desperately to the last shreds of her reputation. People expected things from her. They expected her to bitch out anyone who crossed her line of sight, they expected her to sleep with every single male at the school.

Strangely, the one person who did register some change was someone Santana would never have considered. Quinn couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in Santana's day to day dynamic. Both ex-cheerleaders and old friends put a lot of stock into the age old saying 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer'. Of course for most of their acquaintance they had always danced somewhere in between. Up until the previous year they'd remained in the limbo that was life as perpetual frenemies. That was until Puck rocked the boat and left them in no doubt, their friendship had come to its end. Quinn was keeping a closer eye on Santana since the mono incident and it was this added scrutiny that led her to notice the bite behind her constant stream of insults dulling.

It was knowledge that Quinn had noted and stored away. Although Quinn had never been as starved for attention as Santana she had her own reasons for demanding the spotlight. In hindsight Santana had done her a favour. Finn and her were a shoe-in at prom. On that note she was certain. Despite her accomplishments she couldn't help but seethe internally at Santana's success in exposing her and Finn to Sam, so she kept her information to herself and continued to watch the tall, bolshie girl like a hawk and waited

* * *

One of the many things that Santana had become aware of during her time with Wes was his extreme spontaneity. No matter where they were or what they were doing if Wes got any sort of notion in his head he would hang on to that notion and run with it. Under normal circumstances this would be fine, unfortunately Wes was not normal and what that meant was that when he ran with his ideas he took Santana by the hand and dragged her along with him. The only way she could describe the experience would be akin to trying to restrain a Doberman on a leash once it caught the scent of some bacon. Previous experiences were varied and random but in the few moths they'd known each other Wes had coerced Santana into visiting pet shops, bowling, eating the biggest ice-cream Sunday she had ever seen at Wes' favourite café and visiting the circus. Of all the ridiculous situations she'd been roped into she had to admit that the last one was certainly the worst. The smell of elephant dung had made her gag and retch while Wes watched on in amusement keeling over in laughter.

The memory must have reflected in her expression because Wes cocked his head to the side and asked her why she was making such a sour face.

"I'm sitting here with you aren't I?" She retorted with a catty smile. Wes rolled his eyes at her and refocused his attention on the road in front of them. They were just emerging from the last cluttering of little houses at the edge of Lima and Santana popped open Wes' glovebox to rummage through the assortment of CD's he had shoved haphazardly in there. When she opened the compartment three CD's clattered to the floor. She swore under her breath and bent down to return the CD's to their cases.

"Your car's a freakin' _mess_." Wes smiled as she sifted through the scratched cases but didn't say anything. "And your music taste _sucks._" That got his attention. Wes' head snapped towards her and his eyes stretched out wider than she'd ever seen before.

"_Excuse _me?" He shot back, incredulous. If he hadn't have been in such a state of shock he would have probably noted the cogs turning in Santana's head through her mischievous eyes. She'd struck a nerve, she knew that, and she intended to use this to her _full_ advantage.

"You heard me." Wes was rendered, for the first time in their friendship, speechless. He turned the wheel and pulled over at the side of the quiet road they'd been driving down. Wes took off his seatbelt and turned fully in the seat to face her.

"What do you mean my music taste sucks?" He exclaimed while Santana suppressed a grin. All these weeks of prodding provocations and finally, without even trying, she'd found his weakness.

"I mean your music choices leave much to be desired. I mean _really_?" She raised her eyebrows at him and held up a case for him to study. Wes's face coloured slightly and he tried to grab the CD from her but she snatched it back, out of reach, like a child.

"Taylor Swift." She said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"The Warblers did an acapella version of 'You Belong with me'," He defended as he finally managed to wrestle the case from her darkly painted nails. "Also, it was Blaine's bright idea." He concluded in a grumble. Santana was enjoying this pouty Wes a lot more that she'd imagined. She was about to continue down the list of embarrassing choices when she noticed the familiar spark in Wes' eye, one she had learnt to dread. It was the impulsive gleam of someone who had no qualms about running blindly into potentially stupid situations just for the hell of it. He gazed at Santana for a bit and his face steadily morphed into a smug smile. Santana blinked at him.

"What?" she asked suspiciously. Wes ignored her, turned away and put the car into drive before driving to the end of the road and turning left instead of right. They drove for half an hour and Wes still remained resolutely silent. After that Santana crossed her arms tightly across her chest and glowered furiously out the window for the remainder of the journey. Fifteen minutes later they reached a large wrought-iron gate in the middle of a wealthy row of large houses. Santana glanced at Wes when she detected the change in speed. Something must have come over him because his entire body relaxed against the seat. He turned and drove through the tall iron gates.

"We're here!" He announced jubilantly, resuming his happy disposition instantly. Santana gawped at the beautiful Victorian house before her and forgot for a second that she was angry with him for ignoring her.

"Is this your...?" Her question was left unsaid and with a slight flush Wes nodded with a rueful smile.

"Come on!" He parked on the drive before the house, took the keys out of the ignition and exited the car only to reappear a few moments later at her door. Santana felt an odd little twinge in her stomach as her opened the door for her, there was something surreal about a guy acting gentlemanly towards her. She wanted to mock him and chew him out but she couldn't help but notice the slight flush of happiness. Wes smiled encouragingly and she stepped out of the car. He closed the door behind her and locked it.

Wes gestured for her to follow him and she began to before something occurred to her. She stopped in her tracks. Wes turned to look at her questioningly.

"Are your parents inside?" She asked. There was a flicker of uncertainty over Wes' face for a second but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared and he nodded eventually.

"Yeah." He said. They stared at each other blankly.

"I'm going back to the car." She declared and turned to walk towards the large black range rover. Wes was faster. He jogged quickly to her side and blocked her path.

"Not a chance." He said and narrowed his eyes.

"Watch me." She spat and sidestepped him but as she took her first steps towards the car she felt strong hands gripping her shoulders, turning her around and moving her towards the house once more.

"Wes, Wait! No! I can't do this – Oh no, don't you _dare_ Wesley – No!" Santana dug the heels of her knee high boots into the gravelled path leading up to one of the biggest houses she'd ever seen in real life. Sure, she'd seen houses like this in movies and on TV but never like this. Wes' palms pressed into her back, propelling her forward against her will.

"You'll be fine." He re-assured her with a roll of his eyes. "We're only staying for a second to pick up some CD's I mixed up for you a few weeks ago." All the while he pushed her down the pebbled path, they reached the bottom of the wooden steps that led up to the large porch.

"Mock my music taste..." she heard him murmur mutinously under his breath.

Santana planted her feet firmly in the pebbles. Wes gave her his best imitation of Kurt's trademark bitch stare. The result didn't have quite the effect he was going for, but Santana's lips twitched upwards unconsciously. Wes threw up his arms and huffed dramatically.

"This is like the time I tried to take my Aunt Aggy's shitzu to the dog park. _Damn_ was that dog stubborn," He frowned at the memory but then something occurred to him and he smirked at Santana, "hey, you kind of remind me of-"

"I don't like parents." She hissed, eyes narrowing into angry slits. Wes' face fell blankly. He tilted his head to the side and seemed to look beyond Santana for a long moment with his mouth pressed tightly together in deliberation. His face relaxed as his eyes regained their focus and he gazed intently into her eyes. Santana stiffened, shifting uncomfortably under the intensity of his stare. With a slow nod and a slight smile he seemed to decide something. He reached out his hand and without giving it a seconds hesitation she held out hers, entwining their fingers. He squeezed her hand gently and she looked at their connected hands in surprise, as though she wasn't quite sure how they'd gotten here and truthfully she wasn't. Wes was one of the most confusing people she had ever encountered, which was really saying something considering her best friend was Brittany. She felt the warmth his hand presented comfortable. Santana wasn't a hand-holder. Even with Brit they only ever linked pinkies. She couldn't say that she felt uncomfortable by the touch and her fingers twitched of their own accord around Wes' long fingers.

"I'm going to tell you something that I've never told anyone before..." Wes began, he wasn't looking at her, smiling ruefully at his shoes. Santana wasn't used to him being so guarded. Her stomach twisted and her hand twitched with an urge to pull up his chin so that he had to look only at her. His head shot up and he looked at her again, she flinched at the hint of desperation there.

"But first... it'll only take a second I swear. It's easier to show you." Santana remained rooted to the spot. Wes looked at her expectantly.

"Inside." He added emphatically. Santana took a deep, calming breath and cleared the first few steps up to the porch. Wes trailed behind her, keeping her hand firmly locked in his grip. He stopped with her just outside his large front door. The dark, sleek wood and stained glass in green, red and blue were both beautiful and intimidating. She swallowed thickly. Her breathing became shallow as the fight or flight response kicked in. As Wes fumbled in his pockets for his key she bolted.

Santana managed to make it half way down the drive before a great weight attacked her from the behind. Wes ensnared her waist and pulled her back against him, her heart flip-flopped at their close proximity and the strength of Wes' arms resting on her hips.

"Oh no you don't." He murmured into her hair. Santana shivered involuntarily. Wes did things to her that she'd never experienced with anyone before and she wanted to act on those feelings so badly... but from the beginning he'd never seemed to see her like that. Still, there were times like now when Wes' fingers tightened momentarily on her hips she wondered if he really didn't want her. She felt his hot, steady breath against her neck and felt fire flood her veins. She was about to turn around and throw everything away when Wes' grip disappeared. The moment was over too soon and Wes twirled her around with ease to face him. His eyes bore holes into hers.

"_Trust me_." He pleaded with her. Santana contemplated his earnest brown eyes. Eyes that had only ever looked at her with patience, warmth and other emotions Santana was yet to name. Never once had they looked at her in anger or disgust but rather crinkled up and laughed at her dirty jokes and scathing remarks. He'd fought against her anger and bitchiness and dared to delve deeper.

_And to think an hour ago you thought you'd found his weakness. _Santana realised she was in serious danger of becoming completely and utterly whipped. And even though she knew it went against her pride and stubborn-ass nature she realised that she probably owed this boy in front of her something at the very least it could be this.

So Santana did something she didn't think she could ever do. She took his hand in hers again and decided that if it was Wes, she could trust.

Wes opened the door and stepped into the wide foyer. Santana stepped in behind him, cautiously, her eyes surveyed the curving staircase to the left of the large rectangular room. As he closed the door behind him she walked over to the banister and reached out to trace her fingers across the intricately crafted carvings in the dark wood. He watched her back with a growing warmth in his chest. He reached out and traced a circle between her shoulder blades. She turned at the touch, glancing at him briefly before taking in the rest of the expensive, antique furnishings and wide arch that led into the dining room. When she turned her head to look at Wes her expression was one of awe.

"What the hell _are _you?" Wes laughed at the irritation in her voice. Santana's earlier musings returned, the whole house was really like something from a TV Show. The old fashioned antiques clashing perfectly in a way they shouldn't with the modern paintings strewn across the walls. Before Wes could answer her a clear, musical voice rang out from somewhere within the house.

"Wesley? Wesley is that you?" The voice moved closer. A tall, elderly woman appeared in the archway. Santana stared at her in shock. The woman had a sharp, angular face but her expression was welcoming. Around her eyes were the grooves of laugh lines, the testament to a lifetime of smiles etched in every line in her tanned face. Her dark hair was slightly dishevelled and peppered with the occasional streak of white, secured in a loose pony tail that reached half way down her back. She was holding a mixing bowl. Santana tore her eyes away from the woman to look at Wes with a twisted expression.

"This is too cliché to be real –" she began to blurt out before Wes cut her off by placing an arm around her slender shoulders and pushed her forward, exclaiming loudly as they went.

"Nana, this is my friend Santana." He grinned broadly at his grandmother and she smiled warmly down at the beautiful young girl he'd brought with him. Her eyes wandered from Santana's face to her grandson's and she raised her eyebrows slightly questioning at Wes. He blushed a little and shrugged, his grandmother nodded still smiling but with a hardness in her eyes that wasn't unkind but spoke volumes about her strong character. Those eyes turned again to study the girl, who was shifting uncomfortably, refusing to look her in the eye. Lily held out her hand primmly, Santana regarded it with a flicker of apprehension before accepting the long, slender hand.

"Santana, this is my Nana, Lily." For the first time Santana raised her eyes to meet the woman's eyes directly, eyes that dark should have been cold but radiated a warmth and emotion that was hard to define. They were welcoming but at the same time there was a fierce fire of protective instinct blazing through.

"Hi." She said, biting down the defensive sarcasm that bubbled to her lips. She didn't trust herself to say anything more.

"It's very nice to meet you," she smiled sincerely and glanced at Wes, a mischievous glint flashing in her eyes, it was one Santana recognised but usually saw reflected in a pair of slightly lighter honey-brown eyes.

He doesn't often bring girl's over...although he's never short –" Wes let out a loud obnoxious laugh, the way Santana smirked smugly at him didn't do anything to help the slow, cringing heat that was raising up his neck and pooling in his cheeks.

"Thanks Nana, I think me and Santana will be going up to my room now-" He ushered Santana towards the stairs. His grandmother laughed, the sound melodic and rang out like crystal. Santana didn't quite know what to make of her, she'd never met anyone quite so... there wasn't really a word that could describe it. Wes' grandmother seemed to ooze the old fashioned elegance that should belong to a time long forgotten but somehow, the way she carried herself, transcended all time barriers. There was something else too, the way her eyes seemed to transform when she looked at Santana. She didn't even know her but somehow her eyes just told her that they _knew_. Knew what exactly Santana did not know and didn't think that she could even begin to think about. So she reluctantly let Wes push her towards the stairs.

"You are so _pushy_ today, geez."

"Well if you weren't so damned _stubborn_."

Lily watched as Wes' quick retorts caused the girl to bristle and come to life. She smiled fondly at her grandson as, flushed, he led the beautiful girl up the staircase. Santana glanced back down at the woman briefly and caught her eyes. A flash of understanding was communicated, Lily's lips curved into a smirk. It was not an unkind expression, in fact her eyes shone with what Santana deemed was unwarranted affection, but it spoke of an attitude and strong character that Santana could not help but admire.

"Wesley...?" Wes froze, his left foot just about reaching the top of the staircase, he turned his head mechanically around and tilted it suspiciously towards his grandmother.

"Be good." She drawled, winking up at him. Wes, appalled, covered his face with the hand that wasn't occupied keeping Santana moving forward. Lily, satisfied with her fulfilling quota of family-induced mortification of the day gave Santana a wave of her languid, ring-heavy fingers and another wink that Wes didn't see before turning gracefully on her heel and disappearing from the arch.

For a second neither of them moved, finally Santana gave a little cough. Wes gave her a withering look from between his fingers.

"Well that wasn't what I'd expected, I'll give you that." She shook her head in disbelief, "Can't you just be normal?" Wes ignored her whines.

"Shut up and come on before she comes back..." he tugged her up the stairs and down the hall.

* * *

**A/N Finally here it is! The next chapter will be carrying on directly from this chapter and you'll get a bit of an insight into Wes' background. Let me know what you think of Wes' grandmother :) Sorry again for the ridiculous wait for this chapter, things have been insanely hectic and I have about a month left until I finish school forever so lots of nasty deadlines floating about! Enough of my moaning anyway! Any reviews are greatly appreciated as always! Thanks for reading! **


	7. Past

**A/N I'M BACK! I'M SO SORRY FOR LEAVING – I LEFT A NOTE ON MY PROFILE.**

**Today marks my last day of secondary education. I've been in the middle of all my final exams this last month so that has been the reason for lack of updates! So now, instead of celebrating my freedom by going out like your regular eighteen-year old, I'm sat here with my tea and laptop and am determined to get this out by the end of the night! I'm free for the summer now so expect updates on a more regular basis. **

**Thank you for all the reviews, alerts and favourites while I was AWOL and welcome to any new readers. I swear the e-mail alerts were one of the things that kept me relatively sane through this last month. I'm really glad you all like the story, I wasn't expecting to get such a response so as always thank you, thank you, thank you! I appreciate every single review and comment so much and love you all! **

**Aaaaand breathe Hannah. Anyway that's enough of my rambling, hope you enjoy this chapter. **

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Wes pulled Santana down the hallway, brightened by the sunshine streaming through the windows that dotted the panelled walls occasionally. The floor was covered with a thick creamy carpet and the panelled walls were adorned with frame after frame of smiling family photos. Santana was able to recognise Wes briefly in the little time she took to study them before being tugged away. She caught glimpses of several rooms as they passed including a study, a bedroom and what looked like a small room lined with book shelves. Finally Wes stopped before one of the doors and pushed it open. He took a step inside and pulled Santana in with him before giving the door a little shove so that it was almost closed.

From the second she walked into the room she was struck by how _bright_ everything was. There was a large Window on the far side of the room and the sun shone brightly through, illuminating the soft yellow walls. The room itself was spacious, a large double bed with a deep blue and green throw on the left, next to the window was a simple desk covered in CD cases and random, haphazardly strewn papers. Despite the clutter that covered almost every surface in the room there seemed to be an air of organised chaos that fitted made her lips twitch instinctively. It was so iteratively Wes. She gathered all this at the first glances she took when stepping further into the room but as she turned and spotted the enormous cork board on the right wall everything else seemed to fade in comparison. It was covered in photos, tickets, little doodles, sheet music... Santana was sure that she'd be able to track his entire life from looking at that wall alone. She ignored Wes and walked over to the photos with growing curiosity, because although they'd spent all this time together she was yet to hear much about Wes' life outside of Dalton Academy and the hours he passed with her.

"Wow." She muttered quietly as she brushed her fingers against the nameless faces on the wall. She spun around and surveyed the rest of the room. Wes watched her with a fond smile as she took everything in, enjoying the look of absolute absorption in her eyes. Santana couldn't help but compare the bright, cheerful room to her own. She supposed that both of their rooms were fitting to their respective occupants. Wes suited this sunny, happy space while she would always be most comfortable surrounded by the soothing, seductive darkness of black and red. Despite that she felt strangely at ease here, perhaps not as comfortable as she would have felt surrounded by dark fabrics and poster but different, definitely different. She noted that his bookshelf held very little books but his CD and DVD racks were both so full that he'd began to stack cases on either side and even those piles seemed to be growing at a rather rapid rate.

She walked back over across the light, laminate wood flooring to the photo wall again.

"So are your parents at work?" She asked mildly while she studied the faces. "You could have told me that before I freaked the hell out." Her fingers traced the photos lining the corkboard. She smiled to herself as she came to a photo of a familiar, albeit much younger, Asian boy. Wes had the same grin but lacked his two front teeth.

She hadn't notice the silence but when she turned back to Wes and noticed the vacant expression the silence in the room grew uncomfortable and hung thickly in the air between them. She felt a slight twinge of dread, the one she got when she'd said something tactless without meaning to. Although this happened rarely as most of her comments were uttered with the intention to hit it's mark. She crossed the room cautiously.

"Wes?" His eyes snapped up to hers, supposedly re-energised. He grinned at her but there was something lacking in his usual sincere expression that Santana couldn't place. She considered asking him what was wrong but lost her train of thought as something at the head of Wes' bed caught her attention. She made a beeline towards the light pink plush toy peeking out in the centre of a vast accumulation of silky cushions.

"What the hell is that?" Santana asked and reached out to pick the battered toy up, her mouth curled in distaste. Without warning Wes sprinted towards her, snatched the rabbit up before she could touch it and dived onto the bed. He reached out for her hand a second before he leapt up and as she yelled out his name in protest she tumbled down clumsily beside him.

"What in the hell did you do that for?" She spat.

"What do you mean?" Wes answered defensively as his arms tightened around the ragged looking rabbit. Santana pushed herself up from the pillows, blowing her dishevelled hair out of her face, and glared at him. Wes played absently with one of the rabbit's worn ears as the other propped him up so that he was facing her.

"Really? You're _really _going to play that game with me?" She asked, tilted her head forward to look at him and frowned. Wes deliberated for a second and then with great reluctance offered the stuffed animal to Santana. She studied it and her lips turned down in aversion before reaching out and taking the bunny gingerly by the ear with her index finger and thumb, holding it at a safe distance, away from her body.

Wes lowered himself against the cushions, crossing his legs beneath him and rocking back slightly.

"My mom gave it to me when I was six, just before she left." He smiled ruefully, not looking at her. "I made out I hated it back then, that I didn't want it considering the way she'd left" He turned his eyes back to focus on Santana.

"I still kept it though..." His smile faltered and twisted into something almost melancholy that didn't sit well in Santana's stomach. He sighed and she could see his attention wavering. Santana froze still holding the rabbit warily she considered what she'd asked him a few minutes ago.  
_"Are your parents at work?" _She really didn't know anything about Wes she realized with and she felt as though she'd been kicked.

She glanced down to look at it tilting her head. She supposed it _was_ kind of sweet. With a little more care than she'd taken with it before she placed the plush toy lightly between them. Santana frowned and shuffled uncomfortably, she glanced back at Wes who was still lost in his thoughts. As she drummed her fingers agitatedly on the soft, blue comforter Santana was reminded again of how _bad_ she was at handling these situations. Lust, anger, jealousy – these were all emotions she experienced, ones she knew how to handle. Anything else left her at a loss. Usually Santana was the root of people's problems which generally excluded her from any emotional aftermaths. In the limited experience she'd had of how to comfort others she could find nothing useful to apply. All she could think of was Brittany but of course Brittany would always be a special exception. With anybody else it usually ended in her blurting out the first offensive thing that crossed her mind. One day she knew she'd have to rectify that but for today the situation played out exactly the same as any other.

"Sissy boy." She said, clear enough to be heard but without the malice that usually laced her insults.

Wes looked up, the hazy clouds marring the dark brown lifted. Santana wasn't able to meet his eyes, staring intently at the floor instead. Even her insult had come out sounding tired and half-hearted. She waited for the anger, the disappointment, the disgust, the usual reactions that she'd relish provoking from anyone else. They didn't come. Instead she felt the light touch of fingertips brushing hers. Wes enveloped her hand with his and rubbed his thumb against her clenched knuckles. Santana turned to face him with the most impassive face she could muster considering, he gave her a little smile and his eyes told her that he understood her intention. The eyes told her that, although she herself couldn't find the appropriate words, Wes understood her.

"Thanks." He said. Santana looked away and nodded in reply. They fell into a comfortable silence but after a while Santana felt compelled to probe further.

"What happened?" She asked eventually looking up at him. Wes studied her for a second, processing the question, before turning away to answer the opposite wall.

"Mom left when I was six. I don't know where she is now. Dad died in a car accident when I was twelve. I started living with my grandma when I was thirteen." Despite his grave expression Wes' tone remained neutral and it was at that moment that Santana realised something. Behind all the smiles and general madness there was something else at Wes' core. Before she'd looked at him and only seen the blinding light of happiness and blind optimism that he emitted freely without shame, now as she saw the clouds in Wes' dark eyes she began to see the shadows behind the brightness. She wasn't the only one who met reality with a mask. Maybe the damage in Wes' heart was what had prompted him to see the damage in Santana's that first day, what persuaded him to stay when all she wanted was to push everyone away.

"I'm sorry." She mumbled uncomfortably. It felt odd, apologising like that, the words felt foreign in her mouth and the second they crossed her lips she wished she could take them back. She was reminded of her grandfather's funeral. She'd only been ten but she could still distinctly remember the seemingly never-ending stream of faces all moulded into the same masks of pity. Some of them would reach down to hug her, some simply nodded at her sympathetically but Santana had simply ignored it with a stoic expression. Then again, she'd hardly known her grandfather. Wes' situation was incomprehensibly different.

As she remembered Wes looked at her thoughtfully. He let go of her hand and squeezed her knee briefly. When she looked up at him in question he smiled. "It feels like a long time ago." He told her. The mood lightened and Santana's shoulder's relaxed considerably.

"How did it happen?" Wes leaned away, palms face down behind him and let out a breath wondering where to begin. "With your Dad I mean." She clarified.

After a few seconds of contemplative silence Wes turned around to lean over the opposite side of the bed. When he straightened up again he brought with him a small shoe box. As he spoke he opened the box and emptied it onto the bed. Its contents, a moderate collection of photos, lay strewn haphazardly between them and Santana reached out to pick up the one nearest to her.

"Like I said, I was only twelve when he died. You'd think that it would be something you'd remember well but it feels like a really long time ago now." He began to explain as Santana studied the three figures in the photo. One, a little boy, although slightly rounder was clearly identifiable as Wes. The other two must be his parents she realized and went back to study their faces. Wes scooted closer so that they were sitting side by side, arms pressed together.

"I was about five in this one, I'm in the middle there." he smiled fondly. "The woman is my mother, and that there's Dad." He pointed them both out. Santana nodded and studied the figures. Wes' father looked a lot like his son, the same height and build but his father's features were more distinctively Asian than Wes'. His mother was really very pretty, blonde with light eyes and a slim figure. Santana's eyes flickered up to Wes' face and back down to the photo, he didn't look a lot like his mother but there was something familiar in the way she held herself.

"I don't really know why she left. I don't think she'd ever really been that happy..." Wes didn't seem too sad talking about his mother, there was an air of detachment in his voice. He reached over Santana and picked up another photo, Santana placed the one she'd been holding back in the box.

"After mother left it was just me and dad for a bit. I liked that, just the two of us, but when I was nine he re-married." He showed her the picture. Wes looked about ten and was standing apart from the couple in the photo with his arms crossed and a scowl marring his features. Santana's eyebrows rose higher than she ever thought was possible, she turned to Wes in question. He laughed at her expression and rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously.

"Yeah, I was... unhappy for a while. It was probably jealousy, I didn't make things easy for them that's for sure."

"I can't imagine you being difficult." Santana said sceptically.

"You'd be surprised." Wes laughed. "Up until Grandma came along I was a little bratty I guess. Then Dad died and things just seemed to go horribly wrong from there. I can't remember a lot now, I just remember feeling so _angry _ all the time. Some parts are clearer than others though..." he stated absently. She looked up at him and bit her lip hesitantly. Did he want to talk about it? Should she ask? _Damn it, _she thought in panic, _what do you say in a situation like this?_ She considered Wes' wistful expression. She felt a small wave of sickness in the pit of her stomach. This expression was wrong on Wes' face, she wished his smile back so that she could go back to their usual routine. She'd be cynical and biting, he'd be cheerful and his super-human tolerance to her bitchy countenance. Santana felt as though they were dipping into new, possibly dangerous territory. She'd become accustomed to their friendship, it was simple and natural. It was a little like breathing. She didn't have to think about it, it was just a natural response.

Santana was afraid. The realisation came as an unwelcome jolt because when was Santana ever really afraid? And afraid of losing the friendship of the complete and utter goofball that was Wes. Santana resisted the urge to groan in horror because she remembered that Wes was in fact still in the room with her and whilst she argued internally Wes hadn't said a word. Santana swallowed and with great effort she threw her pride aside for a second because Wes deserved this, for someone to listen to him for a change.

"Which parts?" She asked him, he glanced up at her in surprise but quickly recovered and looked away again. For a horrible moment Santana thought that she'd done the wrong thing again, that he wasn't going to answer her but then he began to speak.

"Beth came into the room, she was my step-mom. I can remember it exactly, you know? Everything down to the smallest details. I was sat on my bed, my old bed at my old house, playing video games. I didn't even register she'd come in, I never did. I was a bit of a... a bit of a pain I guess." He admitted ruefully rubbing the back of his neck. "It's not that I didn't _like_ her, she was always nice enough I guess. I go visit her every now and again..." He stopped for a second and for a moment it seemed like he wouldn't continue but the he took a big breath and went on.

"She walked into the room and asked me to turn off my game. I ignored her. She asked again and this time I realised... I noticed how much her voice was _shaking_, I looked up and saw her face and... I knew. I know it may sound... but yeah, you could tell something was really wrong." Wes frowned and his breathing became a little deeper. Santana was frozen, she wanted to reach out and comfort but the part of her brain still hell-bent on remaining guarded fought against that will. Slowly he turned his head to look directly at her. His eyes were sad and that sadness echoed hollowly inside of Santana.

"It's like this horrible _weight_. It drops in your stomach and just spreads throughout your entire body. At first everything just... stops. You don't feel anything, you don't hear anything. Everything's still. Then it's like reality literally comes crashing back, flooding you with too much emotion all at once." He paused and no matter how much a part of her wanted to turn her eyes away she knew that she couldn't. Wes clearly needed this and so she held his hand, lacing their fingers together. His eyes flashed briefly with a smile and his mouth twitched. He released her from his stare and looked back out the window, continuing in a much lighter tone than before.

"She told me what had happened, he'd pulled out at a junction and someone had jumped the lights. It happened instantly." Santana couldn't deal with it. She could have said something snide, something that would get him out of her hair once and for all but she couldn't. A wave of empathy washed through her and before her good sense could intervene she'd wrapped her arms around him, awkwardly pinning his arms to his body, and rested her cheek on his shoulder.

"I don't know what to say." She admitted softly after a few minutes spent in silent. Wes answered by dropping his head so that it rested on hers.

"You don't have to say anything... this..." he inhaled briefly, "This is more than enough." Santana shivered as he exhaled into her hair. For what felt like a long time they didn't move but eventually Santana sighed and loosened her arms. She looked up at Wes and saw a flash of disappointment in his eyes before he had a chance to conceal it. She pulled away but he wrapped his fingers around her hand at the last minute and held on tightly. Santana didn't pull away.

"Why are you telling me all this?" She asked him, honestly confused at how he could disclose so much personal information to her with absolutely no hesitation. It just didn't happen. People didn't confide in Santana, not in the past, not now, not ever. A strange look flitted across Wes' face, a mix between confusion and humour.

"I trust you, Santana." He smiled warmly and squeezed her hand. Santana blinked at him, shocked and embarrassed. Heat flooded her cheeks and she turned her face away from him in humiliation. Her lips tightened in irritation at the involuntary evidence that his words had affected her written all over her face. It was ridiculous really how such a heavy, dark atmosphere could be dispelled so quickly the instant Wes began to laugh. Santana snatched her hand from his and glared at him through narrowed eyes.

"Shut up Wes," she snapped, when his only answer was to laugh even harder her eyes quickly scanned the bed. Santana grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at him.

He stuck out his tongue and threw the pillow right back. Santana picked a picture up, it must have been taken a few years after his father died as his grandmother, Lily, was standing next to him smiling at the camera. They seemed to be in... "Disney World?" She asked. Wes nodded enthusiastically.

"It is the best place _ever_. I love Disney World. Grandma took me every year after dad died, up until I was sixteen." He said. Santana snickered at the ridiculously excitable child in the photo with his mouse ears. His grandmother looked _exhausted_. Santana couldn't blame her, Wes was excitable as a puppy in any normal situation, she shuddered to think what he was like in a theme park of all places.

"So you've lived with your grandma since you were thirteen?" Wes nodded.

"Dad left home when he was eighteen, went to College to study medicine. He'd never gotten on well with his own father and when he got to College he met my mother. As you can tell, my dad's parents were never exactly short of money," Santana rolled her eyes at him and he grinned at her. "Grandfather had never really approved of the decisions Dad made, he was very traditional, hard-headed. He expected dad to study Law, get a degree and take over the firm. Dad refused, he wanted to be a doctor. He left to start his own family. He was a good man, a good dad." His smile was genuine but tinged with sadness. Santana was glad when he continued as her throat was feeling thick and she doubted she'd be able to speak. She hated it. Hated how emotional she was becoming. Wes kept bringing out sides of her that she'd actively repressed for years. Her arms itched to hug him again but she resisted and let him continue.

"Dad cut all ties. It must have broken grandma's heart but she was stubborn too. She stuck by grandfather. I never met him. All I know about him has come from either dad or grandma herself. He died before Dad did, Cancer. Dad went to his funeral but he'd told me to stay home, that I was too young... I met grandma eight months after dad died. I'd been living with Beth, my step-mom but she couldn't handle me, I was a mess. One day she'd had enough and we packed my bags. I can't blame her, she tried." Santana frowned and a surge of protective anger flowed through her veins. She instantly hated Beth, whoever she was, for turning her back on Wes after everything that had happened to him. She didn't realise how vicious a scowl she was wearing until Wes tapped her cheek lightly with a wide grin, his eyes teasing.

"Don't make that face! It wasn't her fault. I really _was_ a horrible child. I swore, I got into fights... but then Grandma turned up, the day I was meant to leave with the social worker. She took me in and brought me here. She was like no one I'd ever met before. Sure, she was strict and didn't take any prisoners but she was so _invested_. I kept thinking that eventually she'd leave me too but she persevered, she never left." Santana thought of the old woman she'd met downstairs. The fierce protective fire in her eyes and the proud way she'd stood tall. She felt the smile reaching her lips despite herself. "She's great, she looks stern but honestly," Wes' eyes shined and he grinned back. "Once you get to know her..." something shifted. A light-bulb flashed brightly in Wes' mind, Santana saw it in his eyes. His smile turned playful as he regarded her slyly.

"She's got a hard exterior but once you get past that she really does have a warm heart, she's a lot like someone else I could mention." Wes winked at her and Santana blanched in shock. She covered her face with a hand to hide her expression. She felt Wes' laughter vibrate through her against her arm. Once she'd recovered she aimed a punch at his arm. She doubted he felt it, his arms were a lot stronger than they looked.

They spent the next hour sifting through the photos, Wes told her about his life and Santana sat with a growing warmth and worrying affection growing stronger and harder to avoid with every passing minute. Eventually they returned the photos to the box and Wes returned them to their place under the bed. Wes really had burned a CD for her and he picked it up before they exited the room.

"Why don't you stick those photos up there with the rest of them?" Santana asked on their way out looking again at the wall of photos. Wes gave a rare show of discomfort, shifting his position on the bed and furrowing his brows. Eventually his expression relaxed into a small smile.

"I like to be reminded of the things I have rather that what I lost." Santana considered that statement for a moment before nodding, the flicker of a smile lighting her lips too.

"I can relate to that, I guess." Wes held out his hand and for the second time that day Santana made the decision to accept it. Wes beamed at her and led her to the door.

"We could still make the later showing for that movie if you want," he suggested. "Oh, and if grandma asks you'd love to stay for tea but we can't because of this later showing. Got it?"

Santana nodded. Although the prospect of humiliating Wes was not usually something she'd willingly turn down the prospect of spending time with the nearest person Wes had to a parent was something she'd like to avoid. She didn't want to expose herself to that just yet. _Maybe some other time_ she thought idly to herself before she realised what thinking something like that meant. Santana was getting too comfortable. She was scolding herself for her letting down her guard so much when she spotted another familiar face on Wes' wall, a face that she recognised again in a photo blown up to a bigger size than the rest. Wes sensed her coming to an immediate halt behind him and turned to see what had caused her to pause. Santana's eyes had widened to a comical degree and Wes laughed at the look on her face.

"When the hell was this taken?" She asked him with a hint of irritation. She knew exactly when it had been taken of course, it was the moment Kurt's prep-school boys had flooded the restaurant and begun to sing and dance with the rest of them.

"It's the night we first met!" Wes chirped happily.

"Why would you have this on your wall?" Santana asked quietly, just loud enough that Wes could hear. He simply grinned down at her, his eyes with a hint of condescending humour.

"Of course I'd have a picture of you up here," His eyes softened a little and Santana shrunk back minutely, afraid of what was coming next. "You're important to me." He concluded as a blush rose in Santana's cheeks for the second time that day. She ducked her head indignantly and pushed him out of the door hiding the flush in her face.

"I've also had it copied and hung it in my locker." Santana froze again and Wes turned to smirk at her.  
"_Wesley,_" She sneered angrily. "I am going to _kill_ you."

"You'll have to catch me first!" He sang and began to run away. Santana glanced back up at the photo quickly and allowed herself to feel the twinge of warmth she felt before proceeding to catch up to Wes.

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**Okay so that took longer than I'd hoped but it's finally done! There was a lot of information there, I hope it wasn't too much, I know not much happened but I wanted to highlight some of Wes' past. I haven't edited it as much as I usually do as I just wanted to get it out ASAP so I might go back and edit it later. I hope there's not too many mistakes or confusion!  
**

**Unfortunately I'm going on holiday next week so I can't update till a week on Monday! I'll be taking my notebook with me though and writing up the next chapter so hopefully it'll just be a matter of typing it up and posting it! If you want to keep up with me in the mean time you can find me on tumblr if you like. The link is on my profile page!**

**I found in the New York episode that Santana showed a much softer side when comforting Quinn. I loved it and I wanted to capture that a little here. I know there's a soft centre there somewhere!**

**As always I hope you liked it and any feedback is great, thanks! **


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